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THE    "NO    NAME   SERIES." 

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"NO    NAME   SERIES." 

The   First   Series,  completed, 

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MERCY  PHILBRICK'S  CHOICE.  HETTY'S   STRANGE  HISTORY. 

IS  THAT  ALL?  WILL  DENBIGH,  NOBLEMAX. 

KISMET.  THE  WOLF  AT  THE  DOOR. 

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DEIRDRE.     A  Novel  in  Verse. 

A  MASQUE  OF  POETS.  Original  Poems,  by  Fifty  Poets,  written  spe- 
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SIGNOR   MONALDINI'S   NIECE. 

THE  COLONEL'S   OPERA   CLOAK. 
HIS  MAJESTY,   MYSELF. 

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SALVAGE.  DON   JOHN. 

THE   TSAR'S    WINDOW.         MANUELA    PAREDES. 

Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  booksellers.  When 
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BOSTON. 


NO    NAME    SERIES. 


MANUELA     PAREDES. 


NO    NAME    SERIES, 

"Is  THE  GENTLEMAN  ANONYMOUS?   Is  HE  A  GREAT  UNKNOWN?" 

DANIEL  DERONDA. 


MANUELA   PAREDES. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 
1881. 


Copyright,  1881, 
BY  ROBERTS  BROTHERS. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    ON  THE  RIGI 9 

II.    LUCERNE ' .    . 28 

III.  ANDERMATT 41 

IV.  THE  FURCA 52 

V.    THE  BARONESS  .WALDEYER 61 

VI.    THE  FALLS  OF  THE  HANDECK 78 

VII.    THE  RISING  TIDE 93 

VIII.    MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER no 

IX.    BARON  WALDEYER 131 

X.    MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES 148 

XL    ONE  EVENING 165 

XII.    A  CHANGE  OF  SCENE 179 

XIII.  GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA 197 

XIV.  " YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW" 211 

XV.    DISTRACTION 228 

XVI.    IN  COLORADO 248 

XVII.      HOHENTAUBEN 270 

XVIII.    THE  VEXED  QUESTION 288 

XIX.    THE  PASSING  CLOUD 304 

XX.    ENTER  JULIA 321 

XXI.    AND  MR.  DYSART 343 

XXII.    AND  THE  CHORUS 363 


2200610 


"  The  sense  of  the  World  is  short, 
Long  and  various  the  report. 
To  love  —  and  be  beloved, — 
Men  and  gods  have  not  outlearned  it, 
And  how  oft  soSer  they^ve  turned  it, 
'Tis  not  to  be  improved" 


MANUELA    PAREDES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE   RIGI. 

IT  was  a  warm  afternoon  in  the  latter  part  of  June. 
A  gentle  breeze  from  the  north  was  driving  high 
the  few  white  clouds  in  a  sky  of  perfect  blue.  Two 
young  men,  leaving  the  Kaltbad  Hotel,  half  way  up  the 
Rigi,  had  gradually  ascended  until  they  reached  the 
base  of  that  shoulder  of  the  mountain  which  is  called 
the  Rothstock ;  there  they  turned  northward,  and  began 
to  climb  its  grassy  slope,  often  pausing  and  turning 
toward  the  grand  view  which  opened  wider  ranges  at 
each  upward  stage.  They  did  not  know  that  they  were 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  below  the  little  summer-house 
which  crowns  this  minor  peak,  and  had  seated  them- 
selves to  watch  the  cloud-shadows  trooping  across  the 
blue  lake,  and  the  green  fields  and  forests  beyond.  Be- 
hind them  the  grassy  slope  rose  sharply. 

The  younger,  a  boy  of  twenty-one  or  two,  was  a  fair 
type  of  life  at  its  fairest.  From  his  broad,  low  forehead 
heavy  masses  of  chestnut  hair  were  pushed  back  beneath 


10  MANUELA  PARADES. 

a  broad  felt  hat.  Large  blue  eyes,  a  full  mouth,  fine 
teeth,  and  a  bold,  frank  air  comported  well  with  his 
erect  and  muscular  figure,  and  gave  promise  of  a  man- 
hood fit  for  labor  and  apt  for  adventure. 

The  elder  brother  was  evidently  nearing  forty.  From 
his  forehead  the  hair  had  receded  and  was  rather  closely 
cut  over  the  high  crown,  its  dark  brown  streaked  here 
and  there  with  a  silver  line.  The  deep-set,  steady 
eyes,  the  strong  jaw,  prominent  nose,  thin  and  mobile 
lips,  and  the  full  beard,  shaven  on  the  upper  lip  only 
and  draping  the  lower  face  and  the  sinewy  throat,  be- 
tokened a  man  positive,  tenacious,  resolute,  expert.  In 
repose  his  face  might  seem  stern,  but  the  light  of 
thought  and  the  shadow  of  emotion  swept  over  it  so  fast 
that  such  an  impression  of  his  character  could  not  well 
abide.  His  tall  and  well-rounded  figure  also,  by  its 
quick  and  precise  movements,  indicated  alert  and  dis- 
ciplined self-reliance. 

The  brothers  had  been  silent  for  some  moments,  ab- 
sorbed in  the  panorama  beneath  them,  when  the  elder 
spoke.  "Walter,  don't  you  hear  voices  behind  and 
above  us?" 

"  Yes,  women's  voices  j  they  '11  be  rolling  stones  down 
on  us  presently." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  dark  object  sprang  from  the  edge 
of  the  ledge  above  them,  and,  passing  quite  over  their 
sheltered  seat,  fell  at  their  feet. 

The  younger  shouted,  "  Look  out  there ! "  adding,  as 
he  glanced  at  the  missile,  "  That 's  no  stone,  though." 
Lifting  it  from  the  ground,  he  found  a  leathern  box  in- 


OAT  THE  RIGI.  II 

closing  a  large  opera  or  rather  field  glass,  and  bearing 
in  gilt  letters  the  name 

ADRIAN  DYSART,  N.  Y. 

The  elder  took  the  box  from  his  brother's  hand,  and 
said,  "  Walter,  I  know  that  name.  We  must  go  and  see 
who  has  dropped  it" 

A  climb  of  a  few  minutes  brought  them  in  view  of 
the  upper  slope,  which  receded  above  the  brink  of  the 
ledge  under  which  they  had  been  seated,  and  revealed 
the  figures  of  two  women,  slowly  retracing  their  steps 
from  the  edge  of  rock  whence  the  glass  had  sprung  and 
been  lost  to  sight.  The  parties  were  separated  by  a 
hundred  yards  or  more,  and  the  ladies,  who  were  a  lit- 
tle above  and  in  advance,  did  not  notice  the  approach 
of  the  brothers,  who  had  thus  the  opportunity  of  exam- 
ining the  persons  of  their  unconscious  neighbors. 

They  were  too  unlike  to  be  sisters.  The  elder  was 
somewhat  above  the  ordinary  height  of  women.  Her 
erect  carriage,  firm  step,  and  the  rounded  symmetry 
of  her  figure  betokened  physical  perfection  and  un- 
troubled health.  A  full  throat  supported  a  small  and 
well-poised  head,  and  the  face  when  turned  toward  the 
observer  showed  a  rosy  mouth,  a  straight  nose  with  thin 
nostril,  eyes  full  in  form  and  in  color  like  brown  sherry, 
and  hair  of  the  same  shade,  rolled  in  wavy  masses  from 
the  brow  to  the  small  ear,  and  knotted  behind  in  sunny 
coils.  Form  and  face  recalled  more  than  one  type  of 
classic  beauty;  there  were  suggestions  of  the  Venus 
Victrix,  of  Athene,  and  of  Artemis.  Her  dress,  of  soft 


12  MANUELA  PARADES. 

stuff,  was  of  one  shade,  —  a  dark  olive,  —  and  relieved 
by  a  broad  belt  of  bronzed  leather,  bordered  with  golden 
lines.  The  broad,  low  hat  of  black  and  white  straw 
which  shadowed  her  face  was  crested  with  a  knot  of 
poppies  and  golden  wheat.  Her  age  might  be  twenty- 
five,  perhaps  a  little  more.  Her  companion,  a  plump, 
fair  girl  of  twenty,  was  habited  in  a  coquettish  mountain 
costume  of  gray  and  blue,  which  suited  well  her  golden 
hair,  soft  gray  eyes,  and  the  arch  regard  in  which  lurked 
at  once  ready  reserve  and  familiar  ease. 

The  ladies  had  gained  the  little  summer-house,  and 
turned  to  seat  themselves,  before  they  perceived  that 
they  were  not  alone. 

A  moment  later  the  elder  gentleman  advanced,  with 
the  glass  in  his  outstretched  hand.  "  If  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, this  is  yours,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  —  yes,  it  is  ours,"  and  the  elder  lady 
stepped  forward  to  receive  it.  "  I  am  so  glad  to  get  it 
back,  for  my  father  has  had  it  a  long  time,  and  it  suits 
his  eyes  perfectly." 

"  You  are  a  daughter,  then,  of  Mr.  Dysart,  the  banker 
of  New  York?  I  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him 
slightly." 

"  Indeed  !  Do  you  know  my  father  ?  You  must  be 
an  American  then  ?  Yes,  I  am  Helen  Dysart." 

"  And  may  I  introduce  myself  as  Robert  Audran,  a 
Colorado  farmer,  and  my  brother,  Walter  Audran,  an 
undergraduate  of  the  Harvard  Law  School." 

"  Let  me  in  return  introduce  you  both  to  Miss  Alice 
Carroll,  of  New  Brunswick,"  replied  Miss  Dysart,  smil- 


ON  THE  RIGL  13 


ing.  "  We  are  glad  to  meet  you,  particularly  since  you 
know  my  father." 

"  Your  father  is  not  with  you  at  present,  I  presume, 
Miss  Dysart,  as  I  left  him  in  his  banking-house  less  than 
three  weeks  since." 

"No.  Only  my  mother  and  brother  are  with  us. 
They  are  coming  up  from  Lucerne  this  afternoon  to 
spend  a  day  or  two  on  the  Rigi.  They,  too,  will  be 
glad  to  see  some  one  direct  from  New  York.  I  hope 
papa  seemed  well  and  happy  when  you  parted  from 
him." 

Robert  smiled.  "  I  thought  so,  certainly,  Miss  Dy- 
sart. He  was  looking  in  admirable  health  and  seemed 
to  be  very  busy." 

"And  what  about  New  York,  Mr.  Audran?  —  the 
dear,  the  beautiful  city!  One  needs  to  have  known 
these  dead-and-alive  old  towns  to  appreciate  New 
York." 

"  I  fear  that  I  can  tell  very  little  of  that  part  of  New 
York  which  probably  interests  you  most,  Miss  Dysart. 
My  recent  observation  of  it  has  been  mostly  limited  to 
the  stage-route  between  Wall  Street  and  the  Hoffman 
House." 

"  Oh,  it  all  interests  me.  I  was  born  in  Rutgers  Street, 
went  to  school  from  Bleecker,  had  my  first  party  in 
236,  and  have  now  retired  to  57th  Street." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have  not  been  in  any  one  of  those 
localities  for  five  years.  I  can  only  tell  you  that  when 
I  came  up  town  in  the  afternoon  the  streets  were  full  of 
ladies,  making  purchases,  I  suppose,  for  the  summer 


14  MANUELA   PARADES. 

vacation;  and  one  day,  a  beautiful  May  afternoon, 
when  I  drove  to  the  Park,  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  the 
place  so  lovely  or  so  full  of  people.  The  trees  were  in 
their  freshest  leaf,  the  turf  was  smooth  as  velvet,  wis- 
taria-blooms covered  the  trellises,  the  larch  and  spruce 
showed  their  finger-tips  of  pale  green,  clover  and  honey- 
suckle scented  the  air ;  the  four-in-hands  were  out,  there 
was  a  base-ball  game  on  the  Green,  children  were  riding 
on  ponies  and  in  goat-carriages ;  it  was  brighter  than 
Hyde  Park  ten  times  over,  and  more  beautiful  than  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne." 

"  Oh,  how  charming  it  sounds ! "  said  Helen.  "  I  am 
there  at  this  instant;  and  I  suppose  if  we  have  any 
common  acquaintances  we  shall  find  it  out  by  and  by. 
I  must  not  begin  by  asking  you  if  you  know  this  one 
and  that  one." 

"I  know  hardly  any  one,  Miss  Dysart,  for  I  never 
spent  a  week  at  a  time  in  New  York,  and  my  brief 
visits  are  always  passed  at  a  hotel." 

"  Well,"  said  Helen,  "  I  suppose  we  are  not  here,  in 
the  presence  of  all  these  mountains,  for  the  first  time, 
to  cultivate  our  memories,  are  we  ? " 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  answered  Robert,  "  unless  our 
memories  are  the  best  part  of  us :  if  so,  they  should  be 
cultivated  everywhere.  But  pardon  me  for  even  seem- 
ing to  suggest  that  the  past  can  have  more  of  interest 
than  the  future  for  a  lady  so  young  as  yourself."  He 
began  the  sentence  with  a  glow  of  pleasure  at  the 
forming  thought,  and  finished  with  the  hesitation  which 
marked  a  sense  of  danger  in  its  utterance. 


ON  THE  RIGL  IS 


She  interpreted  both  as  she  answered,  "I  hope  so 
certainly ;  and  yet,  — 

"  the  past  will  always  win 
A  glory  from  its  being  far, 
And  orb  into  the  perfect  star 
We  saw  not  when  we  moved  therein.' " 

She  looked  up,  with  a  little  blush,  and  a  startled 
expression  at  finding  herself  quoting  poetry.  But  there 
was  a  sudden  light  in  his  eye  and  a  thrill  in  his  ear,  as 
he  recognized  the  extract  from  a  book  half  of  whose 
pages  were  long  ago  transcribed  upon  his  own  brain. 
There  is  no  introduction  so  comprehensive  as  the  recog- 
nition that  our  own  solitary  pleasures  have  also  been 
those  of  another.  From  that  moment  each  knew  that 
there  were  threads  of  sympathy  woven  between  them 
far  beneath  the  surface. 

"  Perhaps,"  continued  she,  "  it  would  be  better  that 
you  should  tell  us  something  of  that  which  lies  before 
us  here." 

"  I  can  do  that  more  satisfactorily,"  said  Robert.  "  It 
is  a  new  aspect  of  an  old  scene  with  me.  I  spent  five 
months  in  Switzerland  ten  years  ago,  though  I  never 
climbed  the  Rigi  before." 

"To  me  it  is  all  new,"  said  Helen.  "  We  came  from 
Bale  yesterday  ;  this  is  our  first  excursion." 

"You  have  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  before  you, 
then." 

"  Was  it  a  good  plan  to  get  our  first  impression  of 
the  Alps  from  this  point  ?  " 

"Hardly  so,  I   think.     You  have   lost  part  of  the 


1 6  MANUELA  PARADES. 

pleasure  of  approach  by  setting  yourself  within  the 
open  door  at  once.  You  should  have  seen  this  pano- 
rama from  some  more  remote  and  northern  point,  — 
from  the  Uetliberg  at  Zurich;  or  if  you  had  turned 
from  your  route  at  Soleure  and  ascended  the  Weissen- 
stein,  from  either  of  those  points,  you  would  have  seen 
most  of  what  is  now  before  you  lying  low  and  dim  on 
the  southern  horizon,  while  you  would  also  have  seen 
how  the  Alps  reach  down  their  arms  into  the  plains  of 
Germany  and  France,  in  the  Vosges  and  the  Odenwald 
on  either  side  of  the  Rhine,  and  the  Rauke  Alp  of 
Wurtemburg  and  the  Austrian  Tyrol.  You  would  have 
seen,  too,  the  relations  of  the  lakes  and  rivers  and 
mountains  to  each  other,  which  it  is  difficult  to  realize 
as  you  go  from  one  to  the  other  in  detail.  And  you 
would  also  have  had  the  great  pleasure  of  studying  the 
essential  forms  of  the  mountains,  so  that  you  could 
identify  them  by  name  at  each  forward  step,  though 
they  might  each  time  show  you  a  different  facet  of  the 
crystal.  For  the  ordinary  traveller  the  Rigi  is  the  last 
practicable  external  point  of  view  as  he  advances 
toward  the  semicircle  of  mountains  which  stretches 
round  from  the  Vorarlberg,  through  the  Engelberger 
group  and  the  Bernese  Oberland,  to  the  Jura.  You 
are  here  on  the  chord  of  the  arc,  the  string  of  a 
strongly  bent  bow.  Don't  you  think  it  would  have  been 
better  to  have  had  your  first  view  from  the  centre  of  the 
circle  ?  Here  the  northern  third  of  that  circle  is  out 
of  sight  entirely." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  do  think  so,"  said  Miss  Dysart,  and 


ON   THE  RIGI.  17 


the  shadow  of  a  genuine  regret  passed  across  her 
beautiful  face.  "  I  wish  we  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  an  adviser  as  intelligent  as  yourself  in  time.  You 
seem  to  have  made  a  study  of  Switzerland." 

"  Mountains  have  always  been  a  study  to  me.  I  was 
born  among  the  hills  of  New  England,  and  have  chosen 
my  home  among  the  Rocky  Mountains." 

"  Tell  me,  then,"  said  she,  "  is  it  the  study  which 
has  awakened  the  love,  or  the  love  which  has  developed 
the  study  ?  "  She  spoke  impulsively,  and  the  instinct 
that  her  question  was  too  personal  for  slight  acquaint- 
ance made  her  cheek  burn. 

Mr.  Audran  observed  and  rightly  interpreted  the 
blush  as  he  replied,  "  Oh,  they  cannot  be  divided.  Each 
will  grow  with  the  other  if  at  all ;  neither  would  be 
worth  anything  if  it  were  not  so." 

"  Our  friends  seem  to  have  begun  already,"  said 
Miss  Dysart,  glancing  toward  Walter  and  Alice,  who 
had  left  the  summer-house  and  were  seated  on  the  bank 
below.  The  youth  was  pointing  with  his  alpenstock  to 
the  horizon,  and  the  girl  was  intently  following  with  her 
eye.  "  May  I  not  have  a  lesson  ?  " 

So  Robert  began,  weaving  together  history,  geography, 
legend,  and  science,  stories  of  Caesar  and  Hannibal, 
Diocletian  and  Maximin,  Charles  the  Bold  and  Prince 
Eugene,  Napoleon  and  Suwarrow,  Escher  and  Agassiz, 
De  Candolle  and  Dufour.  There  is  much  in  a  fit  audi- 
ence, and  Robert  himself  was  surprised  at  the  continual 
inflow  of  suggestions  and  memories  as,  from  this  Mount 
of  Vision,  the  wholg  chain  of  the  Bernese  Oberland  rose 

2 


1 8  MANUELA   PARADES. 

clear  and  fair  before  them  in  the  light  of  the  western 
sun. 

At  length  the  younger  party  returned  to  the  summer- 
house,  and  Miss  Dysart,  resuming  her  parasol  and 
field-glass,  said,  "  I  can  hardly  tell  you,  Mr.  Audran, 
how  much  I  am  indebted  to  you.  You  have  not  only 
restored  my  glass,  —  you  have  opened  my  eyes  to  use 
it.  But  we  must  return  to  the  Staffel.  My  mother 
and  brother  are  probably  there  by  this  time.  I  hope 
we  may  meet  again." 

To  which  Robert  replied,  "We  too  have  taken 
rooms  at  the  Staffel  by  telegraph,  and  were  on  our 
way  thither  when  we  met  you." 

After  supper  the  two  parties  encountered  each  other 
in  the  public  room  of  the  hotel,  and  Helen  presented 
the  gentlemen  to  her  mother.  Mrs.  Dysart  seemed 
about  fifty  years  of  age,  but  retained  much  of  the  fresh- 
ness of  youth,  and  a  vivacity  of  manner  which  Robert 
better  understood  when  he  learned  something  of  her 
history. 

Eugenia  Mavrosigi  was  the  daughter  of  a  Greek 
merchant,  who,  as  a  boy,  had  wandered  from  Smyrna  to 
Boston,  where  he  entered  the  employ  of  a  house  in  the 
Mediterranean  trade,  in  which  he  presently  became  a 
partner,  and  the  son-in-law  of  the  senior  member. 
His  eldest  daughter  had  received  part  of  her  education 
in  a  private  school  at  Portsmouth,  where  her  favorite 
teacher  had  been  Lucy  Elmer,  afterward  the  wife  of 
Stephen  Audran,  and  the  mother  of  our  friends.  Miss 
Mavrosigi,  after  leaving  school,  had  for  a  time  lived  in 


ON  THE  R1GI.  19 


Glasgow,  where  her  father  was  acting  as  the  resident 
factor  of  the  Boston  house,  and  there  she  met  and 
married  Mr.  Adrian  Dysart,  at  that  time  an  engineer 
and  afterward  a  banker  in  New  York.  During  her  for- 
eign residence,  she  lost  sight  of  her  friend,  now  buried 
in  the  interior  of  New  Hampshire,  where  her  husband, 
Mr.  Audran,  had  large  possessions  in  lumber  lands  on 
the  head-waters  of  the  Saco  and  Androscoggin  Rivers. 

Mrs.  Dysart  was  delighted  at  the  opportunity  of  learn- 
ing something  of  the  fortunes  of  her  former  friend,  and, 
more  enthusiastic  and  less  reserved  than  her  daughter, 
gradually  drew  Robert  into  many  details  of  his  family 
and  personal  history. 

They  learned  that  from  his  first  boyhood  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  accompany  his  father  on  his  long  visits 
to  the  wilderness,  where  he  spent  several  months  of 
each  year  in  moose-hunting  and  trout-fishing,  —  reluc- 
tantly given  up  a  little  later  for  college  life  at  Harvard ; 
how,  by  his  father's  death  in  1858,  he  had  been  left  to 
the  care  and  charge  of  a  large  and  involved  estate, 
which  had  forced  him  to  leave  college,  and  to  spend  five 
years  of  arduous  work,  for  the  most  part  in  the  forest. 
By  the  death  of  his  mother,  in  1862,  he  had  become  the 
guardian  of  his  brother,  and  in  1863  had  found  himself 
at  liberty  to  enter  the  military  service  as  Major  of  a 
Regiment  of  Massachusetts  Volunteers.  At  Spottsylva- 
nia,  in  1864,  he  was  so  seriously  wounded  in  the  lungs 
that  his  life  had  been  long  in  danger,  and  his  career  as  a 
soldier  was  absolutely  closed.  In  1866  he  had  returned 
to  his  law  studies  at  Heidelberg,  but,  after  prolonged 


20  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

and  often-renewed  experiment,  had  been  obliged  to 
accept  the  verdict  of  his  physicians,  —  that  the  conse- 
quences of  his  wound  would  never  allow  him  to  become 
either  advocate  or  jurist,  and  that  if  he  would  live  at  all 
his  life  must  be  passed  in  the  open  air.  It  was  then 
that  he  had  spent  a  long  summer  in  Switzerland,  and 
travelled  through  the  East  as  far  as  India.  Health 
had  gradually  returned  to  him,  and  seemed  to  be  en- 
dangered only  so  often  as  he  made  the  attempt  to 
return  to  a  studious  or  sedentary  life.  Four  years 
previously  he  had  become  the  owner  of  a  Colorado 
cattle-farm,  upon  which,  for  the  larger  part  of  the  time 
since,  he  had  been  living. 

He  had  come  on  to  New  York,  he  told  them,  to  con- 
fer with  certain  parties  about  the  opening  of  railway 
connections  in  Colorado,  and,  finding  that  no  important 
action  would  be  taken  before  September,  had  deter- 
mined to  spend  the  interval  in  Switzerland  and  Ger- 
many. His  brother  had  been  for  two  years  preparing 
for  the  profession  which  he  himself  had  been  obliged 
to  forego,  and  after  this  summer  vacation  would  settle 
himself  for  a  period  of  study  at  Heidelberg. 

In  return  for  these  confidences,  Mrs.  Dysart  explained 
that  after  a  severe  illness  a  year  previously,  she  had 
been  advised  to  spend  a  summer  in  England,  an  autumn 
in  France,  and  a  winter  at  Nice,  from  which  latter  place 
she  had  returned  two  months  before  to  Paris ;  and, 
St.  Moritz  being  recommended  for  August  and  Septem- 
ber, had  determined  to  give  the  intervening  time  to 
such  travel  in  Switzerland  as  her  own  strength  per- 


ON  THE  RIGI.  21 


mitted,  allowing  to  her  children  any  larger  opportunity 
which  occasion  might  afford. 

During  this  conversation,  Helen,  her  brother  Eugene, 
a  fine,  manly  boy  of  nineteen,  and  Miss  Carroll,  had  been 
talking  with  Walter,  or  listening  to  his  brilliant  music  at 
the  piano. 

The  candles  were  beginning  to  sputter  in  their  sockets 
when  Mrs.  Dysart  closed  the  conference,  and  the  party 
separated  for  the  night. 

The  next  day  they  went  to  the  Schiedeck  to  dine, 
and  to  get  the  beautiful  prospective  of  the  lake  which 
that  point  affords.  Returning  to  the  Rothstock  before 
sunset,  they  lingered  far  into  the  soft  summer  evening, 
entranced  by  the  stories  and  the  poetry  which  Robert, 
inspired  by  the  scene,  the  hour,  and  the  audience,  re- 
cited to  them.  When  they  parted  it  was  arranged  that 
at  three  o'clock  on  the  following  morning,  horses  should 
be  ready  to  carry  the  two  young  ladies  to  the  Kulm  to 
await  the  sunrise  on  the  highest  point. 

Miss  Dysart's  room  was  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  and 
as  she  lay  with  closed  lids  awaiting  sleep,  the  pictures  of 
the  day  —  lakes  of  sapphire  and  turquoise,  innumerable 
snow-tipped  mountains  —  rose  and  rose  within  her  dark- 
ened eyes ;  the-fresh  night  wind,  sweeping  up  the  valley 
above  Goldau,  fanned  her  cheek  and  played  in  her  soft 
hair,  bringing  with  it  the-  scent  of  hillsides  covered  with 
June  flowers  and  the  far-off  chime  of  a  thousand  cattle- 
bells.  "  Surely,"  said  she,  "  this  is  the  paradise  of  the 
senses  and  the  imagination." 

Mr.  Audran  was  the  first  astir  on  the  following  morn- 


22  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

ing.  At  three  o'clock  he  sent  off  a  porter  with  a  roll  of 
carpet  to  spread  upon  the  damp  grass  of  the  mountain- 
top,  a  bundle  of  rugs,  and  the  materials  for  making 
coffee.  Very  soon  the  young  ladies  made  their  appear- 
ance in  ulsters  and  veils.  Robert  swung  Miss  Dysart's 
lithe  and  elastic  figure  to  her  saddle ;  Walter  rendered 
like  service  to  Miss  Carroll.  Eugene  led  the  way  up 
the  stony  road  of  three  fourths  of  a  mile  which  connects 
the  Staffel  with  the  Kulm,  and  in  little  more  than  half 
an  hour  the  party  were  seated  on  the  topmost  knoll. 
Forever  after,  that  morning  mystery  of  beauty  remained 
a  fair  and  vivid  picture  in  the  memory  of  each  one  of 
them. 

The  night  was  not  dark,  but  heavy  with  dampness ; 
the  moon,  in  her  last  quarter,  with  down-turned  horns, 
hung  low  in  the  west ;  the  blue  dome  above  was  set  with 
fading  lights,  the  morning  star  flamed  in  the  forehead  of 
the  eastern  sky ;  strands  and  pencils  of  auroral  gray 
streamed  in  the  north,  narrow  bands  of  dark  cloud  on 
the  distant  horizon  were  bordered  with  a  pale  yellow 
streak.  How  still  it  was  !  On  the  faint  undertone  of 
far-off,  falling  waters  and  whispering  trees  only  the 
shrill  note  of  the  cricket  in  the  grass  was  thrown.  As 
their  eyes  became  wonted  to  the  pathetic  blending  of 
moonlight,  dawn-light,  and  dream-light  they  saw  that  a 
floor  of  white  mist  was  spread  high  above  the  lake  and 
over  the  region  beyond  ;  it  filled  all  the  valleys  and 
wound  up  the  gorges  of  the  hills.  Ridge  beyond  ridge 
they  rose,  like  islands  in  a  white  sea.  Flushes  began 
to  grow  upon  and  succeed  each  other  in  the  east,  — 


ON  THE  RIG  I.  23 


pearl,  rose,  violet;  brightening  into  -liquid,  serene,  wide- 
spread amber. 

Helen's  face  glowed  with  its  radiance  as  she  brok'e 
the  long  silence  with  Milton's  lines,  — 

1  Hail,  Holy  Light,  offspring  of  Heaven  first-born  ! 
Before  the  heavens  thou  wert,  and  at  the  voice 
Of  God,  as  with  a  mantle,  didst  invest  , 

The  rising  world." 

She  paused,  with  dew-gemmed  face  uplifted,  and  Rob- 
ert added  to  her  text  fit  commentary  from  Bacon  :  — 

"  The  first  creature  of  God,  in  the  works  of  the  Days,  was  the 
light  of  Sense ;  the  last  was  the  light  of  Reason,  and  his  Sabbath 
work  ever  since  is  the  illumination  of  his  Spirit.  First,  he  breathed 
light  upon  the  face  of  matter;  then  he  breathed  light  into  the  face 
of  man ;  and  still  he  breatheth  and  inspireth  light  into  the  face  of 
his  chosen." 

She  heard  him  with  moistened  eyes  and  swelling 
heart,  but  a  moment  after  her  voice  rang  clear  and 
fresh,  "  See  !  oh,  see !  " 

The  mountains,  which  till  now  had  shown  their  feet 
wound  with  wreaths  of  mist,  and  their  cloven  crests  out- 
lined black  upon  the  golden  sky,  were  just  catching  the 
rays  of  the  yet  unrisen  sun.  Pinnacle  and  dome  and 
spire  flashed  back  their  welcome ;  the  cone  of  Uri  red- 
dened, the  shoulder  of  Titlis  gleamed,  the  brow  of  Wet- 
terhorn  glittered,  and  the  crown  of  the  Jungfrau  lifted 
high  the  orison  of  the  Alps.  Then  came  the  great 
sun,  —  broad,  shorn  of  its  rays,  —  climbing  through  the 
clouds  which  clustered  in  its  path  until  its  planting 
beams  glanced  across  the  summit  on  which  they  stood, 


24  MANUELA  PARADES. 

projecting  their  shadows  far  on  the  banks  of  fog  below, 
like  the  spectral  shapes  of  the  Brocken.  Borne  on  the 
rfsing  wind,  battalions  of  fog  swept  up  the  ravines  of  the 
mountains,  to  melt  in  warmer  air  as  they  passed  the  crest, 
as  melt  the  columns  of  assault  in  the  blaze  of  parked 
artillery ;  and  even  so,  when  the  white  day  shone  down 
upon  the^  party,  the  exaltation  and  enthusiasm  of  that 
twilight  hour  gave  place  to  the  more  human  and  trivial 
moods  of  every  day. 

Gathering  up  their  couch  of  shawls,  they  began 
the  descent.  Half  way  down  the  steep  Miss  Dysart 
called  to  Robert,  and  asked  him  to  get  a  pebble  for 
her  from  the  bank  of  conglomerate  which  lined  the  up- 
per side  of  the  road  as  a  memento  of  the  morning.  With 
the  spike  of  his  alpenstock  he  dug  from  the  breccia  an 
egg-shaped  nugget,  so  smooth  and  heavy  and  cold  that 
he  said,  as  he  handed  it  to  her,  "  By  its  weight  that 
should  be  a  black  onyx ;  and  if  you  permit  me  I  will 
have  some  charm  or  trinket  made  for  you  and  myself 
from  it."  He  got  no  answer,  perhaps  expected  none, 
as  he  added  gayly,  "  For  the  present  I  will  carry  it ; 
sometime  you  shall  see  part  of  it  again." 

Mrs.  Dysart  was  waiting  breakfast  for  them  at  the 
hotel,  and  curious  to  learn  something  of  their  excursion. 
The  elder  members  of  the  party  were  singularly  silent, 
but  the  lively  Alice  came  to  the  rescue  of  conversation, 
describing  the  darkness  and  the  light,  the  mountains  and 
the  mist,  winding  up  her  story  with,  "  O  auntie,  it  was 
just  awfully  grand  and  beautiful !  It  was  like  an  infi- 
nite cathedral,  with  incense  and  music,  and  high  mass 


ON  THE  R1GI.  2$ 


and  benediction."  And  a  smile  of  assent  rose  to  every 
face. 

They  were  to  return  to  Lucerne  at  two  o'clock,  and 
meantime  the  ladies  retired  to  make  up  their  lost  sleep. 

Miss  Dysart  was  ill  at  ease.  Who  was  this  man  who 
had  beguiled  her  into  enthusiasm  ?  Was  he  amusing 
himself  by  drawing  out  her  fancy,  imagination,  and  sym- 
pathies ?  What  was  he  ?  A  chance  acquaintance,  not 
three  days  known.  She  was  vexed  with  herself  and 
piqued  at  him.  Was  he  intentionally  doing  this  ?  Would 
he  continue  it  ?  He  was  a  man  of  the  world,  secure 
in  a  large  experience  of  society,  ready  to  weave  a  little 
web  of  romance  when  occasion  suited,  and  equally 
ready  to  break  the  thread  when  need  were.  By  de- 
grees her  complacency  returned.  "  Forewarned  is 
forearmed,"  she  said.  "  If  it  pleases  him  to  give  me 
pleasure,  I  can  take  it  as  it  flies.  It  is  too  agreeable 
to  be  needlessly  foregone.  I  am  not  a  child  to  be 
run  away  with.  If  this  unlocking  business  is  to  go 
on,  why  should  not  I  also  open  a  chamber  in  his  con- 
sciousness now  and  then  ? " 

So  she  went  to  sleep,  with  a  smile  upon  her  sweet 
lips,  and  she  saw  her  own  smile,  an  hour  later,  as  she 
stood  before  her  glass  arranging  the  rippling  bands  of 
hair  around  her  classic  head. 

Mr.  Audran  was  the  only  member  of  the  party  who 
did  not  seek  sleep.  A  little  chilly,  after  the  exposure 
of  the  morning,  he  found  a  warm  corner  of  the  piazza, 
turned  his  back  to  the  brilliant  sun,  stretched  himself 
along  a  convenient  bench,  and,  lighting  his  morning 


26  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

cigar,  fell  into  a  review  of  his  aspect  of  the  situation. 
A  verse  of  Shelley  was  haunting  his  memory,  and  now 
it  came  to  his  lips  :  — 

"  A  lady,  the  wonder  of  her  kind, 
Whose  form  was  upborne  by  a  lovely  mind, 
Which,  dilating,  unfolded  her  mien  and  motion 
As  a  sea-flower 's  unfolded  beneath  the  ocean." 

Firm  and  fair  and  fine  was  she.  Nature  had  given 
her  health  perfect  as  her  form.  He  knew  the  worth  of 
that,  for  even  at  that  moment  he  was  conscious  of  a  pang 
where  the  bullet,  in  passing  through  his  chest,  had  twice 
shattered  a  rib.  She  at  least  did  not  know  what  it  was 
to  breathe  with  pain.  Years  of  well-appointed  life  and 
thoughtful  culture  had  ripened  that  Ionian  grace  which 
he  fancied  had  come  to  her  through  her  Greek  mother. 
He  had  at  home  a  bronze  vase,  found  at  Herculaneum  ; 
—  she  might  have  been  the  model  for  that  figure  of 
Ceres  impressed  upon  it.  How  sweet  were  the  tones 
of  her  voice,  how  crisp  and  perfect  her  articulation,  how 
warm  and  soft  the  touch  of  her  shapely  hand !  And 
over  all  lay  an  air  of  regulated  impulse,  of  clear  sense, 
and  loyalty  to  common  life.  What  a  piece  of  good  for- 
tune to  meet  her,  what  a  blameless  pleasure  to  know 
her  better,  to  guide  her  feet  and  her  fancy  through  this 
Alpine  land,  which  had  for  him  such  a  perennial  charm  ! 
Was  there  harm  in  it  ?  Not  to  her  at  least,  he  thought. 
He  was  a  ranchman,  leading  a  lonely  life  in  the  bleak 
solitudes  of  Colorado :  she  was  encompassed  with  the 
light  and  charm  of  a  brilliant  social  life,  —  already 
pledged  to  some  man  of  fortune  and  position,  for  all  he 


ON   THE  RIGI. 


knew.  Such  were  about  her  constantly,  no  doubt.  She 
had  but  to  accept  one  of  these  fortunate  lovers  to  be 
installed  in  some  home  stately  and  rich  as  her  father's 
house,  in  which  he  had  recently  spent  an  evening.  And 
she  was  old  enough  and  wise  enough  to  know  the  value 
of  such  things. 

And  how  about  himself?  He  had  been  schooled  in 
disappointments ;  his  youth  had  been  passed  in  the  rude 
forests  of  the  north,  fighting  for  the  fortunes  of  his  fam- 
ily ;  manhood  had  been  darkened  by  that  eclipse  of  life 
which  followed  the  battle-day  at  Spottsylvania ;  his  plans 
and  ambitions  had  dropped  dead  again  at  Heidelberg, 
where  he  found  himself  sinking  under,  the  confinement 
of  study ;  and  now  that  he  was  strong  again,  his  youth 
was  gone  from  him,  he  had  grown  wonted  to  solitude 
relieved  only  by  books,  had  become  exact  and  self-indul- 
gent in  his  ways,  and  believed  that  he  could  not  and 
would  not  now  submit  them  to  be  reorganized  by  any 
woman.  But  why  should  he  throw  away  this  little 
chance  episode  which  had  intruded  itself  into  his  self- 
ish life  ?  It  might  disturb  his  pulses  for  a  moment,  but 
it  would  warm  and  brighten  his  memory  by  and  by.  He 
would  be  careful  that  no  attention  of  his  should  ever 
compromise  her,  he  would  neither  seek  nor  take  what 
she  might  not  discreetly  give  and  happily  remember. 

So  it  came  about  that  they  all  reached  Lucerne  that 
evening  in  good  order,  and  well  content  with  themselves 
and  with  each  other. 


28  MANUELA   PARADES. 


A 


CHAPTER  II. 

LUCERNE. 

T  Lucerne,  letters  were  awaiting  both  parties.    Miss 
Dysart's  was  from  her  sister,  as  follows  :  — 


NEW  YORK,  June  18. 

DEAR  HELEN,  —  Your  last  (Paris,  May  24)  came 
in  due  season  on  the  3d  of  June,  and  was  as  welcome 
as  it  was  entertaining.  After  tiresome  Nice,  Paris  must 
have  been  delightful.  How  I  would  like  to  have  been 
with  you  at  Versailles  and  Neuilly,  and  to  have  shared 
your  evening  drives  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne !  We  were 
delighted  to  hear  Dr.  Gudin's  encouraging  report  about 
mamma,  and  hope  her  experience  at  St.  Moritz  will  sus- 
tain his  opinion.  Probably  this  letter  will  find  you 
somewhere  in  Switzerland,  and  you  will  have  a  splendid 
time  before  you  go  to  the  Baths  in  August.  I  wonder 
if  you  will  anywhere  meet  a  Mr.  Audran,  from  Colo- 
rado, who  had  some  business  awhile  ago  with  papa  about 
a  railroad.  He  came  up  to  57th  Street  one  evening  to 
finish  a  conference  begun  down  in  town.  They  spread 
their  maps  all  over  the  dining-room  table,  and  talked 
about  canons  and  coal-beds  and  wool.  Papa  said  he 
was  a  very  intelligent  man,  and  he  would  have  liked  to 


LUCERNE.  29 


present  him  to  me,  but  he  did  not  know  I  was  in  the 
music-room,  so  I  did  not  see  him ;  but  I  liked  to  hear 
him  talk,  and  wondered  if  he  were  a  specimen  of  Rocky 
Mountain  culture.  He  seemed  more  like  a  professional 
man  than  a  farmer,  and  if  you  meet  him  I  know  you 
will  like  him.  We  are  all  well,  at  least  I  am,  but  I  am 
not  quite  at  ease  about  papa.  I  think  he  misses  you 
and  mother  very  much.  I  can  see  that  he  is  not  so 
light-hearted  as  he  used  to  be.  He  does  not  seem  to 
me  to  talk  so  much  as  usual,  and  I  hear  him  walking 
to  and  fro  in  his  room  almost  every  night.  If  I  speak 
to  him,  he  is  just  as  kind  as  ever,  but  he  turns  me  off, 
or  says  that  business  is  troublesome  just  now.  A  few 
weeks  ago,  a  man  whom  I  never  saw  before  (a  Mr. 
Louis  Fayrolle)  spent  an  evening  here  alone  with  him. 
The  interview  seems  to  have  troubled  father,  and  he 
has  not  been  the  same  since.  What  can  it  be  ?  Noth- 
ing, I  dare  say ;  for  the  other  day,  when  I  went  over  to 
Brooklyn  to  see  Mathilde,  I  stopped  in  at  the  banking- 
house.  Father  was  not  there.  Mr.  Carlin  must  have 
thought  I  was  fishing  for  information,  for  he  said  they 
were  very  busy,  and  business  was  satisfactory.  That 
was  a  good  deal  for  Mr.  Carlin,  was  n't  it  ?  It  is  begin- 
ning to  be  very  warm  in  town.  Papa  says  we  must  open 
the  house  at  Glenwood  next  week,  and  probably  stay  until 
October.  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  there.  It  seems  a  great 
deal  of  needless  trouble  to  keep  this  great  house  going 
for  only  two  people  ;  and  in  that  sweet  little  cottage  on 
the  river,  it  will  not  be  so  lonely  as  it  is  here,  all  the 
day  long.  I  am  getting  more  and  more  wrapped  up  in 


30  MANUELA   PARADES. 

my  music.  Genevieve  comes,  and  we  read  together 
hours  at  a  time.  We  went  the  other  day  to  a  private 
organ  recital  at  Steinway's,  by  Lindberg,  —  a  new  man, 
a  Swede,  about  whom  Morgan  was  very  enthusiastic. 
People  are  going  out  of  town  fast ;  half  the  houses  on 
the  block  are  shut.  Please  bring  home  photographs  — 
good  large  ones  —  of  everything  interesting ;  it  will  help 
me  so  much  to  realize  what  you  have  done.  If  you  do 
meet  that  Mr.  Audran,  —  he  told  papa  he  was  going  to 
Switzerland  for  three  months,  —  be  civil  to  him,  for  papa 
says  he  is  worth  cultivating.  Every  chance  you  have, 
you  or  mother  must  write  to  papa,  it  will  cheer  him  up ; 
and,  please  God,  we  shall  all  be  together  again  by  the 
middle  of  November.  With  much  love  to  mamma, 
Eugene,  and  Alice, 

Your  affectionate  sister, 

JULIA  DYSART. 

Helen  was  disturbed  by  this  letter,  and  in  doubt  at 
first  whether  she  should  show  it  to  her  mother.  A 
moment's  thought  decided  the  question.  "  Mother's 
interest  is  greater,  her  knowledge  more,  her  judgment 
better  than  mine.  If  trouble  be  coming,  she  has  skill 
to  deal  with  it ;  if  disaster,  courage  to  bear  and  sym- 
pathy to  impart." 

But  Mrs.  Dysart  was  as  much  perplexed  as  her 
daughter.  Neither  knew  any  cause  for  care  or  anxiety 
which  could  oppress  Mr.  Dysart.  His  letters  to  them 
had  all  been  cheerful,  and  he  was  pressing  money  upon 
them  with  no  hint  of  economy.  So  they  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  Julia,  who  was  perfectly  devoted  to  her 


LUCERNE.  31 


father,  must  have  been  unduly  nervous  about  him,  and 
that  there  was  no  real  occasion  for  concern. 

The  old  Cathedral  of  Lucerne  contains  one  of  the 
finest  organs  in  Europe,  and  three  times  a  week  in 
summer  it  is  played  by  a  master  from  six  to  eight  in 
the  evening,  generally  without  choir  or  service,  often 
without  listeners,  —  an  offering  to  Art  and  Religion  the 
worthier  that  it  is  rendered  at  the  hour  appointed, 
whether  men  care  to  listen  or  not. 

Mr.  Audran  had  proposed  that  they  should  go  together 
after  an  early  dinner.  The  shadows  were  lengthening, 
but  the  evening  sun  still  shone  hot  upon  the  lake  side 
of  the  cathedral  close.  The  clock  was  on  the  stroke 
of  seven  as  they  entered  the  aisle ;  a  current  of  cool 
and  fragrant  air  breathed  over  them,  and  the  closing 
door  shut  out  the  passing  world.  They  were  alone  ; 
only  in  the  far  transept  one  black-robed  figure  knelt 
before  a  lighted  shrine.  From  the  high  western  win- 
dows bands  and  clouds  of  color  fell  across  nave  and 
chancel,  lighting  up  the  faded  banners  on  the  walls,  and 
the  sculpture  of  the  pillars ;  Pentecostal  tongues  of 
flame  glowed  upon  the  heads  of  apostles  and  saints,  a 
sheen  of  gold  bathed  the  uplifted  wings  of  a  cherub, 
and  a  beam  of  violet  fell  upon  the  beautiful  white  side- 
altar.  The  church  itself,  gray  with  age,  but  threaded 
through  with  light,  seemed  less  the  work  of  men's  hands 
than  a  symbol,  grown  out  of  the  faith  of  a  race  and 
impregnate  with  the  devotion  of  generations. 

In  such  an  atmosphere  the  conditions  and  conven- 
tions of  present  life  lose  their  sway,  and  visions  of  the 


32  MANUELA   PARADES. 

life  which  is  past  and  of  the  life  which  is  to  come  rise 
upon  the  abstracted  mind.  And  thus  they  were  lifted 
and  borne  upon  the  surge  of  music  rolling  from  the 
great  organ.  The  artist,  unseen,  absorbed  in  his  theme, 
knew  not  and  cared  not  for  any  listener.  The  fugues 
of  Bach,  a  psalm  of  Mendelssohn,  and  finally  one  of 
Mozart's  masses  were  evolved  without  any  sense  of  hu- 
man presence  or  agency.  The  thunderous  bass  stirred 
the  air  with  heart-shaking  vibrations.  As  the  sun's 
morning  beams,  striking  across  the  sands  of  the  desert, 
warm  and  expand  the  columns  of  air  enclosed  in  the 
great  statue  of  Memnon  until  aeolian  tones  breathe 
from  those  old  and  stony  lips,  so  at  evensong,  in  the 
glow  of  parting  day,  the  columns  of  the  great  instru- 
ment sent  up  from  their  brazen  throats  volumes  of 
quivering  and  thrilling  sound.  The  pathetic  wail  of 
the  Kyrie  gave  place  to  the  aspiration  of  the  Sanctus, 
and  the  rapture  of  the  Amen  crowned  the  triumph 
of  the  Gloria.  And  so,  silently,  pervaded  and  har- 
monized by  one  emotion,  they  passed  out  into  the  pur- 
ple evening,  and  saw  the  waxing  stars  tremble  and  the 
black  mountains  slumber  in  the  darkened  mirror  of 
the  lake. 

The  gleaming  lights  of  the  hotel  and  the  rattle  of  car- 
riages recalled  our  friends  from  their  trance.  They  were 
soon  seated  in  a  corner  of  the  supper-room,  discussing 
the  plans  of  the  morrow  over  their  tea.  It  had  been 
arranged  that  the  younger  members  of  the  Dysart  party 
should  take  a  short  excursion  under  Mr.  Audran's 
guidance,  —  Mrs.  Dysart  meanwhile  going  on  to  Inter- 


LUCERNE.  33 


laken,  where  they  were  all  to  rejoin  her  two  days  later  ; 
and  Robert  had  to  answer  a  host  of  questions  as  to 
outfit,  costumes,  routes,  and  halts.  Busy  as  he  was 
kept,  he  did  not,  however,  fail  to  notice  a  gentleman 
and  lady  who  stood  a  moment  at  the  door  of  the 
room,  then  entered,  and  moved  to  a  table  not  far 
from  themselves.  The  gentleman,  rather  large  and 
stout,  with  a  military  air  and  carriage,  might  have  been 
a  man  of  thirty-five.  A  round  and  close-cropped 
head,  shaven  face,  waxed  and  pointed  mustache  and 
imperial,  black  paletot  buttoned  once,  with  a  minute 
strip  of  crimson  ribbon  near  the  top  of  the  left  lappel, 
suggested  a  Frenchman  and  a  soldier.  The  lady  was 
probably  twelve  or  fifteen  years  older,  for  her  abundant 
hair  was  snowy  white,  and  her  face,  though  smooth  and 
unwrinkled,  had  lost  something  of  the  firmness  of  its 
outline.  She  had  a  clear  olive  complexion,  black  eye- 
brows and  eyes ;  shoulders  still  plump  and  shapely 
showed  beneath  the  fall  of  black  lace  which  hung  from 
the  back  of  her  head  and  was  gathered  in  a  loose  knot 
upon  her  bosom ;  her  figure  was  tall,  inclining  to  em- 
bonpoint ;  diamonds  flashed  on  a  beautiful  hand  as  it 
moved  in  frequent  gesticulation  ;  and  the  whole  impres- 
sion was  that  of  one  impulsive  by  nature,  but  experienced 
and  thoroughly  disciplined  in  the  ways  of  the  world. 

The  two  were  apparently  talking  of  their  own  affairs 
over  a  bottle  of  Moselle  and  a  plate  of  biscuit ;  but 
something  in  their  manner  gave  Robert  a  sense  or  a 
suspicion  that  they  were  really  more  interested  in  watch- 
ing his  own  party. 

3 


34  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

They  seemed  to  time  accurately  their  stay  in  the 
room  so  as  to  quit  it  a  few  steps  in  advance  of  the 
Dysarts,  and  as  the  lady  gathered  her  ample  train  in 
her  hand,  she  managed,  not  quite  accidentally  as  Robert 
thought,  to  leave  some  object  upon  the  chair  which  she 
had  occupied. 

Robert  would  have  called  a  servant,  but  Miss  Dysart 
picked  it  up,  and,  stepping  quickly  forward,  said, 
"  Madame  !  "  The  lady  turned,'  with  a  little  air  of  sur- 
prise, as  Helen,  with  outstretched  hand,  continued  in 
French,  "  This  is  your  card -case,  is  it  not?  You  left 
it  upon  your  chair."  It  was  received  with  a  graceful 
inclination,  and  a  very  sweet  smile  accompanied  the 
words,  "  Mademoiselle  is  as  good  as  she  is  charming. 
It  is  the  politeness  of  a  Russian  or  an  American."  And 
drawing  from  the  case  as  she  spoke  a  couple  of  cards, 
she  presented  them  to  Helen.  Helen  read,  "  Mme.  la 
Baronne  Waldeyer,"  "  Baron  Waldeyer,"  —  a  jewelled 
crest  flashed  on  the  card-case. 

Helen's  eyes  sparkled  as  she  answered,  "Yes,  madame, 
I  am  an  American,  —  bourgeoise.  We  have  no  titles." 

"  None  but  those  which  you  win.  I  too  was  once  a  Re- 
publican," added  the  baroness.  "  May  I  know  the  name 
of  the  gracious  lady  to  whom  I  am  indebted  ?  " 

"  I  am  Miss  Dysart,  of  New  York,  and  this  my  mother, 
Madame  Dysart,"  said  Helen  promptly. 

A  nervous  tremor  passed  across  the  baroness's  face 
as  she  exchanged  a  glance  with  her  companion.  The 
two  elder  ladies  saluted  each  other,  the  baroness  smil- 
ing graciously,  Mrs.  Dysart  reserved  and  stately.  After 


LUCERNE.  35 


a  little  pause  the  baroness  added,  "  We  live  at  Colmar 
in  Alsace ;  and,  lest  our  cards  mislead  you,  I  must  ex- 
plain that  monsieur  is  the  younger  brother  of  my  late 
husband  and  the  successor  to  his  title."  Then,  turning 
to  Helen,  "  Miss  Dysart  will  excuse  my  freedom,  for 
her  face  recalls  a  friend  of  my  youth.  Do  you  stay 
long  at  Lucerne  ?  " 

Helen  answered  quietly,  "  We  leave  to-morrow,  —  all 
of  us  except  my  mother,  who  goes  to  Interlaken  a  day 
or  two  later."  And  as  they  had  now  reached  the  stair- 
way, the  parties  divided,  with  courteous  farewells,  and 
went  their  different  ways.  Robert's  happened  to  coin- 
cide with  that  of  the  baroness  and  her  escort,  and  the 
latter  took  up  the  conversation. 

"  And  is  monsieur  also  an  American  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Robert,  "  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United 
States." 

"  Ah  !  what  a  grand  country  !  What  vast  extent ! 
What  marvellous  resources ! "  said  the  Frenchman. 
"  What  education  a  century  of  republican  liberty,  begun 
and  ended  by  a  lustrum  of  heroic  war,  has  given  to  your 
countrymen  !  In  the  days  of  the  First  Empire  France 
called  herself  La  Grande  Nation  ;  but  you  will  claim, 
and  we  must  soon  concede,  that  rank  to  you." 

Robert  answered,  "And  Americans  feel  now  a  new 
interest  and  sympathy  for  France,  which  has  survived 
terrible  disaster  and  entered  so  fairly  upon  a  career  of 
republican  life.  Our  colors,  if  not  our  flags,  are  the 
same  :  we  both  show  the  red,  white,  and  blue.  Am  I 
right  in  regarding  the  Baron  Wakleyer  as  a  soldier  of 
the  French  army,  and  a  friend  of  the  republic  ? " 


36  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  In  both  instances,  monsieur.  I  entered  the  service 
in  1862  as  a  pupil  of  St.  Cyr,  and  left  it  last  year  as 
lieutenant-colonel  of  the  chasseurs  of  Vincennes.  An- 
other war  would  probably  see  my  return  to  the  service. 
Has  monsieur  a  military  record  also  ?  " 

"  Much  less  prolonged  than  yours.  I  served  two  years 
in  our  war  of  the  Rebellion." 

"  In  that  case  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  learn  some- 
thing from  you.  I  have  so  long  desired  to  understand 
the  American  campaigns,  which  differ  much  from  any  of 
modern  times  in  Europe.  Mme.  la  Baronne  will  excuse 
us  if  we  adjourn  to  the  piazza." 

An  hour  later  they  were  still  busy  with  comparisons 
and  reminiscences  over  their  cigars,  and  when  they 
parted  Robert  .had  quite  forgotten  the  suspicion  with 
which  he  had  at  first  regarded  the  strangers. 

The  lake-reflected  sun  threw  its  dancing  lights  upon 
the  ceiling  of  Robert's  chamber  when  he  woke,  and 
wisps  of  white  mist,  rising  along  the  tree-covered  hill- 
sides, gave  promise  of  at  least  one  fine  day.  His  first 
thoughts  were  disturbed  by  a  sense  of  the  responsibilities 
which  he  had  assumed.  What  business  had  an  old  fellow 
like  himself  to  undertake  the  care  of  two  young  women 
in  a  three  days'  tramp  over  mountains  and  wastes,  he 
muttered.  Ten  chances  to  one  they  would  all  wish  them- 
selves well  out  of  it  before  the  excursion  were  half  done. 
If  anything  should  miscarry,  it  would  spoil  the  pleasure  of 
the  relation  which  had  grown  up  between  them.  How 
careful  he  must  be  to  keep  himself  and  them,  all  the  way, 
all  the  time,  on  the  perilously  fine  line  between  enthu- 
siasm and  common-sense  ! 


LUCERNE.  37 


While  he  was  pursuing  such  speculations,  Mrs.  Dysart 
came  to  him  on  the  piazza.,  full  of  her  own  version  of  the 
same  themes. 

"  Mr.  Audran,"  said  she,  "  I  hope  you  appreciate  how 
very  much  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  your  invitation  to 
my  children.  They  have  been  tied  to  me  quite  too  long, 
and  obliged  to  forego  for  my  sake  a  thousand  things 
which  tempted  them.  This  excursion  will  delight  them, 
and  they  will  remember  you  very  kindly  for  giving  it  to 
them." 

"  If  I  could  only  be  sure,  Mrs.  Dysart,  that  they  would 
not  be  overtired  or  disappointed,  it  would  be  the  pleas- 
antest  thing  that  could  happen  to  me.  You  will  tell  me 
just  what  I  must  do  or  may  do  for  them,  —  how  much  I 
may  tax,  and  how  much  I  must  spare  them.  I  am  not 
used  to  the  care  of  young  ladies,  and  perhaps  they  will 
not  accept  care  from  me.  Will  they  hold  me  innocent 
if  they  find  me  ignorant :*  " 

"  They  will  do  just  as  you  say,  Mr.  Audran." 

"  But  that  will  make  my  responsibility  all  the  greater. 
Have  you  no  cautions  to  give  me  ?  " 

"  Your  readiness  to  ask  for  them  is  the  best  proof  that 
they  are  needless.  Helen  is  very  sensible,  very  full  of 
resources;  she  will  be  ready  for  anything;  and  Miss 
Carroll  will  do  whatever  Helen  desires.  They  spent  a 
vacation  together  in  the  Catskills  two  years  ago,  and 
are  used  to  mountain  climbing.  Both  are  perfectly 
well.  You  need  not  be  too  anxious  about  them.  But 
if  you  will  tell  me  just  what  your  plan  is,  it  may  help 
them  to  make  suitable  preparations.  They  will  thank 
you  for  every  little  hint  you  can  give." 


38  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

Robert  unfolded  his  programme  for  each  day  of  the  trip, 
adding,  "  The  ladies  can  each  carry  a  small  satchel  by 
strap  or  hand,  and  a  larger  for  which  I  will  find  convey- 
ance. They  should  have  a  change  of  easy  walking-shoes, 
dresses  short  and  light  for  walking,  something  to  shield 
the  face  from  sun  and  wind,  coats  and  shawls  for  the 
chance  of  a  storm.  I  think  of  nothing  else.  We  can 
communicate  with  you  by  telegraph,  from  which  we  shall 
never  be  more  than  three  or  four  hours  away." 

"  Shall  they  take  food  or  stimulants  of  any  sort,  — » 
cordials  ? " 

"  Not  if  you  will  trust  me,  madame.  I  was  myself  an 
invalid  so  long  that  I  know  very  well  what  may  be  needed 
on  an  excursion  of  a  few  days." 

"  At  least  you  will  carry  this,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  hand- 
ing him  a  heavy  little  purse. 

"  If  you  require  me  to  do  so,  madame  ;  but  remember 
how  lone  and  forlorn  my  life  by  myself  is.  Might  I  not 
be  host  for  this  time,  since  I  so  rarely  have  the  oppor- 
tunity? You  cannot  realize  how  much  I  enjoy  the 
chance  of  such  society,  —  what  a  privilege  it  is,  or  how 
long  and  pleasantly  it  will  be  remembered." 

"  We  will  owe  you  everything  but  money,  Mr.  Audran. 
I  cannot  look  at  you  without  recollecting  how  much  I 
owe  to  your  dear  mother,  whom  you  so  much  resemble." 

When  the  party  assembled  after  breakfast,  Miss  Dy- 
sart, to  whom  her  mother  had  rehearsed  Mr.  Audran'a 
suggestions,  was  disposed  to  be  satirical. 

"  We  ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for 
your  detail  of  proper  wardrobe  for  us.  It  is  a  habit  of 
your  military  life,  perhaps." 


LUCERNE.  39 


"  Yes,  Miss  Dysart ;  it  is  usual  to  see  that  one's 
command  is  properly  equipped." 

"  Yours  to  command,  sir !  Shall  we  parade  for  in- 
spection and  muster  ?  Shall  we  open  our  knapsacks  ? 
We  may  have  started  without  brushes  and  combs,  per- 
haps. What  would  happen  then  ?  " 

Robert  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  rippling  masses  of  her 
brown  hair,  and  answered,  "You  would  be  forced  to 
borrow  mine,  which  would  make  them  more  valuable 
to  me  forever." 

"  Oh,  how  embarrassing  a  man  can  be  when  he  takes 
to  compliments  !  "  said  she. 

"You  don't  seem  very  much  embarrassed,  Miss 
Dysart." 

"  No,  I  have  heard  such  things  before ;  but  there 
will  be  no  chance  for  you  this  time."  She  drew  a  little 
tortoise-shell  comb  from  the  aumoniere  which  hung  at 
her  belt,  as  she  spoke.  "  Now,  to  go  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, how  do  you  find  these  ?  "  raising  her  skirt  to 
show  a  stout  sole  studded  with  small  steel  nails. 

"I  find  them  evidences  of  a  sound  understanding, 
Miss  Dysart." 

"And  these  ?"  extending  her  hands,  neatly  fitted  with 
drab  gauntlets  &  suede. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  so  well  of  those." 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?  " 

"  For  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place  they  will  almost 
dissolve  when  they  are  wet." 

"  Your  second  reason  should  be  better,  for  in  the 
first  you  are  mistaken." 


40  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Put  your  glove  in  a  glass  of  water  for  two  minutes, 
then  wring  it,  and  look  at  the  water  and  the  glove,  and 
you  will  see." 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  spoil  my  glove  to 
promote  your  complacency  ?  " 

"  It  is  enough,  —  you  admit  it  would  be  spoiled  !  " 

"  I  do  not  admit  it ;  I  simply  defer  the  test  until  I 
know  whether  I  have  to  make  further  appeal  from  your 
omniscience.  What  is  the  second  reason  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  giving  it  to  one  who  is  so  afraid 
of  being  embarrassed." 

"  I  know  it  is  too  trifling  to  be  told." 

u  It  is  no  trifle  :  it  is  true,  it  is  unanswerable." 

"  Indeed  !     I  wait  to  be  convinced." 

"Well,  then,  I  say  it  is  a  pity  that  the  hide  of  a  rat 
should  hide  the  hand  of  a  lady." 

"  That  will  do,  Mr.  Courtier  of  Colorado.  If  it  had 
been  that  Frenchman  with  the  mustache  dree,  I  should 
not  have  been  so  much  surprised." 

"  Baron  Waldeyer  is  a  very  fine  gentleman,  Miss 
Dysart." 

"  Without  debate.  We  are  not  looking  for  fine  gentle- 
men just  now." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  keep  your  chaff  until  you  get 
back,  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart. 

"  No,  mother ;  we  shall  be  under  too  great  obliga- 
tions to  Mr.  Audran  by  that  time.  Now  is  our  chance, 
if  ever." 


ANDERMATT.  41 


CHAPTER   III. 

ANDERMATT. 

'T^HE  steamer  was  already  at  the  quay,  as  the  little 
-•-  procession  moved  from  the  hotel,  Robert  attend- 
ing Mrs.  Dysart.  They  parted  at  the  gangway,  and 
the  travellers,  going  to  the  upper  deck,  saw  at  the 
farther  end  Baron  and  Baroness  Waldeyer  already 
seated. 

Helen  went  straight  up  to  them  with  a  graceful 
morning  salutation.  "  And  are  you  too  leaving  Lu- 
cerne ? "  said  she. 

The  baroness  answered,  "We  go  only  to  Fitznau, 
and  shall  return  in  two  or  three  hours.  To-morrow  we 
go  to  Interlaken.  And  your  mother,  is  she  not  with 
you  this  morning  ?  " 

"  No.  She  also  goes  to  Interlaken  shortly,"  said 
Helen.  "We  shall  join  her  there  on  our  return  from 
the  excursion  upon  which  we  are  now  starting." 

"  Your  mother  is  very  courageous  thus  to  allow  her 
whole  family  to  leave  her,"  said  the  baroness,  glancing 
over  the  party  already  seated  near  by. 

"  Oh,  not  all  of  us  are  hers,  —  only  myself  and  my 
brother  Eugene,"  indicating  the  boy.  "  The  others 


MA  NUELA    PA  R  EDES. 


are  friends.  Miss  Carroll  travels  with  us.  The  Messrs. 
Audran  are  but  recent  acquaintances." 

"  I  see  now,"  said  the  baroness,  "  there  is  no  family 
likeness  except  between  yourself  and  your  brother ;  but 
neither  of  you  resemble  your  mother  greatly." 

"  We  are  both  said  to  be  like  our  father.  My  mother 
is  repeated  in  my  sister  Julia,  who  remains  at  home 
in  America." 

"You  are  three,  then,  —  and  no  more?"  inquired 
the  baroness. 

"  Only  three,"  said  Helen. 

"  Your  mother  must  be  so  happy  in  you !  I  feel  it, 
for  I,  alas!  have  no  children.  One  I  had,  —  she  would 
have  been  about  your  age,  —  but  she  is  gone  from  me," 
said  the  baroness.  "  In  the  order  of  nature  we  survive 
the  friends  of  our  childhood.;  it  is  only  in  children  that 
we  can  keep  our  hearts  alive.  The  baron  has  been  in 
the  place  of  a  son  to  me.  If  it  were  not  for  him,  I 
should  be  alone  in  the  world.  When  the  death  of  my 
husband  left  me  thus  lonely  and  gave  to  the  baron  an 
estate,  he  left  the  army  to  make  a  home  with  and  for 
me ;  but  I  cannot  hope  to  keep  him  always.  He  is 
a  senator  of  France,  a  commander  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  with  an  immense  talent  for  affairs.  I  ought 
not  even  to  wish  to  detain  him  from  the  life  which  I 
cannot  share  with  him.  It  would  be  different  if  I  had 
a  daughter  like  you ;  but  then,  perhaps,  she  too  might 
wish  to  leave  me,"  glancing  at  Mr.  Andran.  "  It  is  one 
of  your  English  poets,  I  think,  who  has  so  well  rendered 
a  sentiment  of  our  provincial,  Pascal,  — 


ANDERMA  TT.  43 


"  Why  should  we  shrink  and  fear  to  live  alone, 
Since  all  alone  —  so  Heaven  has  willed  —  we  die?" 

But  it  is  very  selfish  in  me  to  think  and  speak  so  sadly 
when  I  am  with  you,  my  dear  young  lady  " ;  and  with  a 
quick,  almost  convulsive  movement,  she  drew  Helen 
toward  her  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

Helen  drew  back  in  surprise.  She  had  not  dreamed 
of  such  effusive  tenderness  in  a  stranger ;  but  she  saw 
that  the  eyes,  which  had  seemed  so  haughty  and  cold 
the  evening  before,  filled  with  tears,  and  that  the  lips 
were  trembling  with  a  genuine  emotion ;  and,  with  an 
instinct  as  sudden  and  sincere  as  that  of  the  baroness, 
she  returned  the  kisses  on  both  cheeks,  as  she  said, 
"  Dear  lady,  I  am  sure  you  will  always  have  some  one 
to  love  you." 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  that  mademoiselle  has  found  the 
way  to  my  sister's  heart,"  said  the  baron  ;  and  he  rose 
and  removed  his  hat,  with  admiring  eyes. 

The  remainder  of  the  party  were  too  far  away  to  hear 
this  conversation,  but  they  watched  the  tableau  with 
astonishment.  The  baroness  noticed  their  surprise, 
and,  rising  with  dignity,  extended  her  hand  to  Helen 
with  a  lovely  smile,  as  she  said,  "  My  dear,  I  shall  hope 
to  see  more  of  you  at  Interlaken.  You  will  forgive  me 
for  having  made  a  scene  here.  Adieu."  The  baron 
bowed  profoundly,  the  baroness  took  his  ready  arm, 
and  they  walked  slowly  to  the  bow  of  the  boat.  A 
few  moments  later  they  passed  on  shore  at  the  first 
landing. 

Helen  rejoined  her  friends.     Alice  was  the  first  to 


44  MANUELA   PARADES. 

speak  her  surprise.  "  Well,  Helen,  of  all  things  in  this 
world  !  You  !  What  is  it  all  about  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  !  I  don't  know!  "  she  answered,  almost 
sobbing.  "  I  don't  understand  it  any  more  than  you  do. 
She  has  made  me  perfectly  nervous.  She  seemed  to  be 
so  unhappy  and  so  tender-hearted." 

"  But  why  should  she  have  shown  either  to  you  ?  and 
why  should  you,  of  all  people  in  the  world,  have  gone  to 
pieces  in  that  way,  all  at  once  ? " 

Helen  answered,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  was  said,  and 
you  may  make  out  of  it  what  you  can  "  ;  and  she  re- 
counted the  words  with  perfect  accuracy. 

Alice  listened  with  an  incredulous  air,  and  said,  "  I 
think  it  was  a  very  pretty  piece  of  acting  all  round." 

Helen's  eyes  flashed.  "  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to 
say  such  a  thing  —  of  me  at  least.  There  was  nothing 
but  gentle  thought  and  feeling  in  her,  I  am  sure." 

Alice  continued  perversely,  "Well,  I  don't  believe  that 
a  person  who  could  pose  and  swim,  as  she  did  last  night, 
and  then  break  and  stiffen- in  that  sort  of  way,  can  be 
sweet  and  sound  all  through." 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Helen.  "Not  many  people 
are ;  but  I  am  sure  she  has  a  sweet  and  tender  heart.  I 
don't  know  when  I  have  been  kissed  in  such  a  way. 
Poor,  poor  woman  !  " 

"  What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Audran  ? "  said  Alice. 

"  I  think  I  understand  both  of  you  on  this  occasion," 
answered  Robert,  "  much  better  than  I  do  the  baroness ; 
,and  I  believe  with  Miss  Dysart  that  she  was,  for  the 
time,  overpowered  by  some  sudden  and  honest  instinct. 


ANDERMATT.  45 


How  long  it  will  last  and  what  will  succeed  it  I  could 
not  venture  to  predict." 

"  And  what  do  you  say  of  the  baron  ? "  asked  Alice. 

"  I  should  say  that  he  behaved  with  perfect  propriety 
to  both  ladies,  and  was  as  honest  as  his  sister.  I  liked 
him  very  much  last  night." 

"  We  shall  see  more  of  them,  I  presume,"  said  Helen, 
who  had  regained  her  usual  serenity.  "  Mother  will 
have  formed  an  opinion  about  them  by  the  time  we  get 
to  Jnterlaken." 

A  little  after  noon  the  boat  reached  Fluelen.  They 
were  soon  secure  in  their  places  on  the  top  of  the  dili- 
gence, and  traversing  the  valley  of  the  Reuss,  rich  in 
historical  interest.  Monastery  and  convent  and  feudal 
tower  came  into  view  and  were  left  behind.  The  scen- 
ery grew  wilder  and  more  rugged  hour  by  hour  as  the 
long  valley  links  contracted.  Plelds  of  purple  moss 
covered  the  rocky  slopes,  and  the  mouths  of  wild  and 
dark  gorges  opened  and  closed  upon  them  as  they 
passed.  Now  they  skirted  smooth  reaches  of  river,  and 
again  wound  around  the  face  of  jutting  ledges,  far  above 
the  thundering  torrent.  The  valley  became  a  chasm, 
close-walled  with  barren  rock.  A  cold  wind,  spray-laden, 
came  from  the  plunging  waterfalls  above  them.  Here 
and  there  a  mountain  peak,  snow-tipped  and  ruddy  with 
evening  glow,  rose  above  the  rock  wall  over  their  heads. 
Premature  twilight  gathered  around  them  asthey  crossed 
the  Teufelsbriicke  in  a  cloud  of  spray,  and  the  blackness 
of  midnight  seized  and  shrouded  them  in  the  long  tun- 
nel of  the  Urner  Loch.  At  length,  from  its  dark  portal, 


46  MANUELA   PARADES. 

they  issued  into  a  pale  green  Alpine  valley,  set  among 
snowy  mountains  and  lit  by  still  stars,  whose  twinkle 
seemed  repeated  in  the  lights  of  Andermatt  just  before 
them.  The  jaded  horses  were  forced  into  a  gallop,  a 
cloud  of  steam  rose  from  them  in  the  cold  night  air,  and 
the  first  day's  journey  ended  as  they  drew  up  at  the 
porch  of  the  Hotel  Oberalp. 

After  supper  they  went  to  the  parlor,  a  simply  fur- 
nished room,  but  rich  with  the  warm  glow  of  an  open 
wood  fire  which  threw  soft,  dancing  shadows  up  and 
down  the  wall.  There  was  a  piano  in  the  room,  and 
Helen,  sitting  down,  began  to  play.  Her  musical  in- 
stinct seemed  to  grow  with  that  on  which  it  fed  as  she 
ran  on  with  remembered  fragments  from  Beethoven, 
Gounod,  Liszt,  —  dreamy,  yearning,  sorrowful,  jubilant. 
Her  swift  white  hands  gleaming  along  the  keyboard,  the 
grace  of  her  lithe  and  mobile  figure,  and  her  brown  eye 
glancing  in  the  firelight  which  played  upon  the  side  of 
her  face  made  a  charming  picture. 

Robert  sat  at  the  end  of  the  piano,  awed,  delighted, 
and  amazed,  as  the  river  of  harmonies,  long  and  bright, 
flowed  on,  drawing  its  liquid  treasure  from  every  cave 
and  spring  of  the  human  spirit.  Helen's  image,  grace- 
ful and  sweet,  lingered  on  his  mental  vision  long  after 
they  had  separated  for  the  night.  Was  she  the  ideal 
woman,  of  whom,  before  his  morning  star  grew  dark,  he 
was  always  dreaming  ?  Many  a  time  he  had  for  a  mo- 
ment fancied  that  he  had  found  her,  and  many  an  image 
which  his  young  heart  had  glorified  had  turned  to  clay, 
—  sometimes  very  paltry  clay.  The  frolicsome  child, 


AN  DERM  ATT.  47 


whom  he  had  vainly  tried  to  invest  with  a  purpose  and 
a  soul ;  the  gay  young  girl,  who  numbered  and  published 
her  conquests ;  the  fair  egoist,  in  whose  fondness,  even, 
was  revealed  only  self-love  and  a  hysteric  perspective 
of  great  exactions  and  small  requitals ;  the  pretty  fool, 
whose  graces  could  not  conceal  her  emptiness  ;  the  pas- 
sionate creature,  whose  hot-hearted  and  wrong-headed 
nature  contained  infinite  probabilities  of  error;  the  de- 
signing flirt,  who  was  always  "  taking  account  of  stock  " ; 
the  weakling,  dissolving  in  fears  and  tears  when  the  sig- 
nal for  action  was  flying,  —  what  contrasts  all  these 
made  to  this  charming,  just-discovered  Helen  !  It  was 
no  longer  possible  to  conceal  or  deny  it  to  himself :  she 
had  taken  possession  of  his  thoughts.  For  three  nights 
he  had  dreamed  about  her,  and  he  took  it  for  a  sign  that 
it  would  be  well  to  analyze  the  nature  of  his  emotions. 
It  would  never  do  for  him  to  "  go  all  to  pieces,"  as  Alice 
said,  before  he  knew  it. 

He  must  think  the  matter  out  Nothing  could  be  par- 
doned to  him  on  the  score  of  youth  or  inexperience  of 
the  world.  And  Helen  herself  was  so  alert,  so  absolute 
in  her  self-control,  that  she  might  understand  him  before 
he  knew  himself.  She  must  be  more  than  twenty-five. 
A  physical  organization  so  perfect  could  never  have 
known  any  period  of  eclipse  ;  consequently  for  many 
years  she  had  been  an  object  of  admiration  and  de- 
sire, a  beautiful  woman,  —  like  Princess  Zobeide  in  the 
Arabian  Nights,  "  a  delight  to  beholders  and  a  tempta- 
tion to  God's  servants."  Her  father's  wealth,  her  metro- 
politan home,  her  education  and  accomplishments,  had 


48  MANUELA  PARADES. 

no  doubt  brought  around  her  a  court  of  admirers.  With 
every  mode  of  approach  and  pursuit  she  was  familiar ; 
and  since  she  remained  Miss  Dysart,  and  heart-free,  she 
must  also  be  familiar  with  every  form  of  defence  and 
evasion.  But  was  she  heart-free  ?  He  had  no  clew  by 
which  to  answer  his  own  question.  Certain  it  was  that 
if  free  she  were,  it  must  be  because  she  was  uncommonly 
hard  to  win.  He  did  not  wish  her  less  difficult.  To 
him  there  was  a  special  charm  in  her  vestal  temper ;  it 
might  be  less  yielding,  less  fond,  but  it  must  be  of  purer 
and  richer  tone.  A  nature  so  sufficient  for  itself  must 
have  great  reserves  of  treasure  to  impart.  There  would 
indeed  be  force  and  breadth  and  depth  in  such  compan- 
ionship. This  would  be  no  light  o'  love,  needing  to  be 
watched  and  nursed  forever.  On  such  a  faith  a  man 
might  rest.  There  was  vision  in  her  faculty,  guidance 
in  her  counsel,  succor  in  her  strength,  and  would  there 
not  be  rapture  in  her  tenderness  ? 

What  chance  of  all  these  for  him  ?  His  life  was 
more  than  half-spent.  It  had  been  devoted  to  the  re- 
demption of  the  fortunes  of  his  family  and  to  the  ser- 
vice of  his  country  ;  but  a  few  years  since  his  life  itself 
had  hung  in  the  balance,  and  until  very  lately  had  been 
compromised  by  the  possible  results  of  his  old  wound. 
It  would  not  befit  the  honor,  which  in  his  inmost  heart 
he  paid  her,  to  drag  down  her  bright  life  with  the  care 
and  weight  of  his  infirmity.  Supposing  the  years  to 
come  were  to  be  weary  and  hard  as  the  years  that 
were  past,  to  join  her  lot  to  his  would  be  to  clip  her 
bright  wings,  to  fetter  her  beautiful  feet,  to  divert  her 
ambition  from  its  true  and  rightful  aim. 


ANDERMATT.  49 


What  had  he  to  offer, — what  fortune  or  estate,  what 
position  ?  He  possessed  a  few  thousands  in  bank,  a  few 
sections  of  prairie  and  meadow,  where  as  yet  only 
buffalo-grass  would  grow,  lying  far  away  on  the  confines 
of  civilization,  outside  of  all  society  or  culture  or  art. 
At  what  he  called  his  home  he  had  a  jabbering  Mongol, 
epicene  of  form  and  office,  who  wore  a  blue  cotton 
blouse,  baggy  trousers,  and  served  as  cook,  laundress, 
and  chambermaid;  a  cute  but  coarse  Yankee  for  a 
partner  and  manager ;  a  few  forlorn  Mexican  herdmen, 
and  now  and  then,  by  way  of  guest,  a  stray  Ute  or 
Navajo  Indian.  Could  he  offer  her  a  share  in  such  a* 
life  as  that  ?  Preposterous  !  But  what  else  was  there  ? 
His  scheme  had  been  well  laid.  Thus  far,  success  had 
exceeded  expectation.  His  last  sale  of  cattle  had 
netted  him  five  thousand  dollars,  and  his  herds  were 
doubling,  and  would  double  year  by  year.  He  had  a 
great  scheme  of  irrigation  which  was  to  transform 
the  vast  plains,  where  now  the  bunch-grass  and  the 
gama  scarcely  hid  the  gray  cinders  of  the  soil,  into 
fields  of  waving  wheat  and  the  purple  bloom  of  the 
alfala.  But  all  this  was  prospective,  and  were  he  now 
to  retreat  and  attempt  to  realize  upon  his  scheme,  he 
would  secure  only  some  thirty  or  forty  thousand  dollars, 
—  not  much  more  than  the  sum  which  her  father's 
family  expended  in  a  single  year,  and  he  would  be 
absolutely  without  an  occupation  or  an  aim.  And  no 
man  in  such  a  position,  he  felt,  could  long  command 
and  retain  Miss  Dysart's  interest  and  sympathy.  The 

life  of  an  idler  and  a  dilletante  would  suit   neither  of 

4 


50  MANUELA   PARADES. 

them.  Action,  progress,  and  a  worthy  ambition  were 
the  conditions  of  life  for  both. 

Must  he,  then,  give  up  the  thought,  and  with  it  her,  — 
elect,  precious,  rare  ?  'T  would  be  the  end  of  love  for 
him.  Forty  now,  he  would  be  fifty  before  the  reasons 
which  governed  this  case  would  cease  to  govern  all. 
The  glow,  the  bloom,  was  fading  out  of  his  life.  From 
twenty  to  thirty,  the  young  man  had  many  a  time 
"lightly  turned  to  thoughts  of  love."  Strong  as  was 
his  determination  to  seek  and  to  accept  no  ties  which 
could  embarrass  him  in  the  work  which  was  laid  upon 
him,  yet  so  abiding  and  subtile  was  the  attraction  of 
women  for  him  that  he  had  never  been  long  without  an 
object  for  his  dreams.  However  remote  and  solitary 
his  life  might  be,  it  had  always  kept  an  altar-flame 
alight,  if  only  to  an  unknown  divinity.  But  more  than 
once  he  had  tasted  the  sweetness  of  some  fresh  young 
heart,  and,  with  an  effort  at  self-repression  which  wrung 
every  fibre  of  his  soul,  had  fled  from  contact  to  cherish 
his  remote  and  solitary  worship  of  the  ideal.  And  in 
his  later  years,  during  the  stir  of  war,  the  eclipse  of  the 
sick-room,  the  renewed  grasp  after  the  material  objects 
of  life,  nature,  subdued  at  every  turn,  had  grown  weary 
of  love  without  hope.  Upon  his  altar  now  for  years 
had  been  only  the  ashes  of  a  smothered  heart. 

Of  late  he  had  more  than  once  said  to  himself  that, 
obedient  as  he  had  always  been  to  the  leadings  of  duty, 
the  time  might  come,  must  come,  years  hence,  —  at  fifty, 
perhaps,  —  when  it  would  be  as  necessary  for  him  to 
have  a  wife  as  hitherto  it  had  been  necessary  not  to 


ANDERMA  TT.  5-1 


have  one.  Thus  he  would  take  on  matrimony  and 
spectacles  about  the  same  time.  Both  of  them  would 
be  evidences  of  decay,  — clear  cold  flint,  gold-rimmed. 
Meantime  he  must  thrust  from  him  this  sudden,  heaven- 
sent opportunity.  None  like  it  ever  was,  ever  would  be, 
—  this  pure,  warm  -young  creature,  this  "  spring  of  youth 
and  hope  and  love  and  gladness,"  dropped  into  the 
"  winter  of  his  discontent."  Yes,  he  should  probably 
have  to  content  himself  with  the  spectacles,  and  he 
must  put  away  forever  his  dreams  and  visions  of  maiden 
charms,  of  the  final  and  coy  caress,  of .  the  heart  un- 
worn, the  mind  unbound,  — 

"  She  who  stands  beside  me  like  my  youth, 
Transforms  for  me  the  real  to  a  dream, 
Clothing  the  palpable  and  the  familiar 
With  golden  exhalations  of  the  dawn." 

He  was  sitting  bent  over  the  fire,  now  smouldering. 
Two  sticks  which  had  kindled  fell  apart,  the  burning 
surfaces  grew  dim  and  were  covered  with  ashes.  He 
turned  them  over  and  laid  them  close  against  each 
other.  Each  reinforced  the  heat  of  the  other,  the  air 
drew  up  between  them,  and  lighted  the  coals  to  a  new 
glow ;  presently  a  light  flame  wavered  all  along  the  line 
of  contact.  He  waited  until  they  were  burned  out,  and 
then  he  rose,  with  a  couplet  of  Landor  on  his  lips  :  — 

"  I  warmed  both  hands  before  the  fire  of  Life. 
It  sinks,  and  I  am  ready  to  depart." 


MANUELA    PARADES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   FURCA. 

XTOTWITHSTANDING  his  vigils,  Robert  was  the 
•*•  ^  first  astir  next  morning.  His  earliest  care  was 
that  provision  should  be  made  for  an  ample  breakfast, 
—  not  approving  the  Swiss  custom  of  a  roll  and  a  cup 
of  coffee  as  preparation  for  a  day  of  cold  and  exposure  ; 
his  next  was  a  visit  to  the  stables,  where  he  inspected 
and  selected  an  open  carriage  capable  of  accommodat- 
ing six,  striking  every  tire  and  wheel,  examining  every 
bolt  and  nut.  A  similar  inspection  was  given  to  the 
harness,  and  to  the  eyes  and  feet  of  the  horses. 

Helen  watched  the  process  from  the  window  of  her 
chamber  with  approval.  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with 
her  idea  of  Mr.  Audran.  She  said  to  herself  that,  in 
camp  or  in  court,  so  bold,  practical,  and  provident  a 
spirit  would  command  success,  accepting  no  poor  ser- 
vice, brooking  no  contradiction.  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  accustomed  to  be  obeyed :  it  was  to  be  hoped  that 
he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  being  arbitrary. 

It  was  a  rude  morning.  Leaden  clouds  were  piled  in 
the  west  on  the  far-off  summit  of  the  Furca,  and  on  the 
nearer  ridges  of  the  St.  Gotthard  ;  a  little  powdering  of 
snow  lay  over  the  short  grass ;  the  Reuss,  shrunken  to 


THE   FURCA.  53 


a  rivulet,  fretted  feebly  down  the  valley ;  the  northern 
sides  of  the  great  bowlders  were  white  with  snow,  and 
the  southern  and  western  damp  with  rain.  The  chance 
of  improved  weather  was  in  the  coming  day ;  and  Rob- 
ert, surveying  the  preparations  of  the  ladies  carefully  as 
they  came  to  the  piazza  to  take  their  places  in  the  car- 
riage, thought  that  nothing  could  be  neater  or  more 
complete,  —  large  gray  ulsters,  little  gray  felt  hats,  tied 
down  with  long  blue  veils,  the  ends  of  which  were 
crossed  behind,  and  knotted  at  the  throat  in  large 
bows.  The  light  of  a  quickened  life  was  in  their  eyes, 
the  rose  and  pearl  of  youth  unworn  upon  their  cheeks ; 
their  sunny  looks  lent  a  cheer  to  the  gray,  unsmiling 
day. 

The  first  part  of  the  route  followed  the  zigzags  of  the 
Urseren  Thai,  which,  like  a  broad  and  shallow  groove, 
divides  the  Italian  summits  from  those  of  the  Bernese 
Oberland.  Planes  of  retl-brown  rock,  sometimes  bare, 
sometimes  heath-covered,  sloped  gently  down  to  the 
little  stream,  and  between,  the  road  slowly  mounted  the 
long  incline  toward  the  west. 

Walter  and  Eugene  sat  beside  the  driver,  Mr.  Audran 
and  the  ladies  in  the  body  of  the  carriage. 

"  How  do  you  find  this,  Miss  Alice  ? "  asked  Robert. 

"  Perfectly  splendid,"  she  answered.  "  Here  we  are 
on  the  very  roof  of  the  world.  Nobody  knows,  and 
nobody  cares.  We  are  just  having  our  own  way,  all  by 
ourselves.  Oh,  if  you  gentlemen  could  only  know  how 
delightful  it  is  for  girls  to  get  out  of  Mrs.  Grundy's  sight, 
and  not  to  be  forced  to  walk  in  her  ways !  " 


54  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

*'  But  surely  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  Mrs.  Gruncly 
has  ever  been  hard  on  you,"  said  Robert. 

"Indeed  I  do.  I  mean  to  say  that  every  young  girl 
who  lives  among  people  has  to  sacrifice,  perpetually, 
her  innocent  pleasures  and  instincts,  for  fear  of  being 
misunderstood  and  talked  about.  And  I  mean  to  say, 
also,  that  the  restrictions  about  girls  are  twice  as  many 
and  twice  as  hard  as  those  for  older  ladies,  and  that 
they  are  twice  as  hard  to  bear.  So,  you  see,  I  have  — 
twice  two  are  four,  and  twice  four  are  eight  —  eight 
times  as  much  of  a  quarrel  with  Dame  Grundy  as  my 
mother,  for  example." 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  your  mother  in  New 
Brunswick  would  say  if  she  knew  just  what  her  daughter 
was  doing  this  morning  ?  " 

"  She  would  be  delighted,  I  'm  sure,  and  would  say 
that  it  was  very  good  of  somebody  to  have  contrived  so 
much  pleasure  for  all  of  us.  flow  are  we  going  to  pay 
our  debts,  Mr.  Audran  ? " 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  Miss  Alice.  When  it  begins 
to  be  a  sacrifice  to  provide  pleasure  for  you,  and  to 
share  your  enjoyment  of  it,  we  will  go  our  ways  and  you 
shall  go  yours.  It  is  very  good  of  you  too  to  come  so 
far  out  of  your  road  on  the  chance  of  being  repaid. 
What,  for  example,  are  you  looking  for  to-day?  Do 
you  know  where  you  are  going  and  what  you  have  come 
out  into  the  wilderness  for  to  see  ? " 

"  No,  I  know  nothing  about  it.     Do  you,  Helen  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  thanks  to  Mr.  Audran's  descrip- 
tion on  the  Rigi,  I  seem  to  myself  to  understand, — in 
part  at  least." 


THE  FURCA.  55 


"  Will  you  give  us  your  idea  of  it,  then  ? "  said 
Robert. 

"  I  know,"  said  she,  "  that  the  boat  brought  us  to  the 
foot  of — indeed,  part  way  through  —  the  wall  of  moun- 
tains which  bounded  our  southward  horizon  on  the 
Rigi ;  that,  at  Fluelen,  we  entered  the  valley  of  the 
Reuss,  which  separates  the  Grisons  from  the  Bernese 
Oberland  ;  that  we  followed  the  river  almost  due  south, 
about  twelve  miles,  to  Amstag,  rising  fifteen  or  eighteen 
hundred  feet;  that  then  we  turned  westward,  leaving 
the  Grisons  behind  and  on  our  left,  and  made  a  much 
sharper  ascent,  and  now  are  going  almost  to  the  top  of 
the  ridge  which  divides  the  waters  of  the  Rhine  from 
those  of  the  Rhone  and  connects  the  southern  Italian 
chain  with  the  northern ;  that  on  this  southern  chain 
are  the  passes  which  lead  down  into  Italy,  —  the  St. 
Gotthard,  the  St.  Bernard,  and  the  Simplon  ;  and  we 
shall  follow  this  little  Rhine  stream  to  its  source,  about 
twelve  miles  away,  and  then  climb  sharply  up  three  or 
four  miles  more  to  the  Furca,  where  we  shall  be  about 
eight  thousand  feet  above  the  Lake  of  Lucerne.  When 
we  get  there,  directly  before  us  will  be  the  deep  valley 
of  the  Rhone,  three  thousand  feet  below ;  on  the  right 
will  be  the  great  mountains  of  the  Oberland,  and  on  the 
left  the  chain  of  Monte  Rosa,  the  Matterhorn,  and 
Mont  Blanc.  How  nearly  am  I  right,  Mr.  Audran  ? " 
with  a  brilliant  smile. 

"  You  are  very  right.  The  whole  situation  is  as  clear 
in  your  mind  as  in  mine,  and  I  can  add  very  little, 
except  that  you  must  not  expect  to  see  Monte  Rosa  or 


$6  MANUELA  PARADES. 

Mont  Blanc,  because  nearer  mountains  shut  them  off ; 
but  they  are  there,  as  you  have  described  them ;  and  if 
you  have  formed  your  ideas  from  my  description,  you  are 
the  best  listener  man  ever  had.  It  makes  me  feel  as  if 
I  had  put  myself  on  record,  and  should  be  held  account- 
able for  all  errors  and  deficiencies." 

"  Because  you  are  so  clear  yourself,  Mr.  Audran.  I 
told  you  that  you  had  done  more  than  find  my  glass,  — 
that  you  had  given  me  eyes  "  ;  and  she  lifted  her  bright 
face  with  such  a  frank,  responsive  glance  that  Robert 
drew  a  quicker  breath  as  he  bent  down  to  Alice's  ear, 
and  repeated,  in  a  tone  heard  by  her  only,  — 

" '  Do  bat  look  at  her  eyes !    They  do  light 

All  that  this  world  compriseth. 
Do  but  look  at  her  hair  I     It  is  bright 

As  eve's  star  when  it  riseth. 
And  from  her  arched  brow  such  a  grace 
Sheds  itself  through  her  face,  —     . 
As  alone  there  triumphs  to  the  life, 
All  the  gain,  all  the  good,  of  the  elements'  strife.' " 

Alice  flushed  with  pleasure  as  she  turned  toward 
Helen,  whose  look  had  changed  to  one  of  surprise  and 
dissatisfaction.  "  Whispering  ?  "  said  she.  "  How  very 
unlike  Mr.  Audran ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Dysart,  but,  as  you  spoke, 
I  could  not  help  recalling  a  verse  of  Ben  Jonson,  and 
repeating  it  to  Miss  Alice.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  my  impertinent  memories." 

"  You  have  not  the  least  occasion,  Mr.  Audran,"  said 
Alice.  "You  are  perfectly  right  in  admiring  Helen. 


THE  FURCA.  $? 


We  all  think  that  every  one  who  is  not  stupid  must  do 
so." 

"  Yes.  I  make  no  excuses  for  that"  said  Robert ;  "but 
Miss  Dysart  may  find  it  inconvenient  if  all  her  admirers 
put  their  admiration  into  words.  The  truth  is  not  al- 
ways to  be  told,  you  know." 

"  That  will  do  for  the  present,"  said  Helen,  "  or  I 
must  change  places  with  one  of  those  boys.  I  '11  go  off 
with  Eugene.  Did  you  ever  know  a  brother  who  could 
not  take  the  conceit  out  of  his  sister  as  fast  as  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  could  put  it  in  ?  And,  after  all, 
Mr.  Audran's  compliments  are  like  heat  lightning,  — 
they  shine,  but  they  don't  strike.  He  won't  imagine 
that  I  take  them  for  more  than  they  are  worth.  If  it 
pleases  him  to  say  pretty  things,  he  must  be  indulged. 
Le  roi  s*  amuse!  When  he  pleases  to  be  in  earnest, 
as  he  was  in  his  lesson  on  the  Rigi,  then  I  shall  listen 
with  attention."  As  she  looked  straight  in  his  face  his 
eyes  fell  abashed. 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Audran,"  said  Alice;  "  she  will  get 
the  best  of  everybody,  —  that 's  her  way ;  but  she  is  as 
good  as  she  can  be  for  all  that." 

"Well,  it  must  be  admitted,"  said  Robert,  "that  no 
experience  of  the  world  will  help  a  man  particularly 
in  his  dealings  with  women.  Here  am  I,  "something 
like  forty  years  old,  quite  cast  down  by  the  rebuke  of 
one  more  than  ten  years  my  junior,  and  very  grateful 
for  the  encouragement  of  another,  ten  years  younger 
yet." 

Helen  smiled.     "  I  shall  begin  to  think  you  have  lost 


58  MANUELA   PARADES. 

your  head,  Mr.  Audran,  if  you  expect  to  make  your 
peace  by  telling  all  the  world  how  old  I  am." 

"Well,  I  am  recovering  it,  under  discipline,"  said 
Robert ;  "  and  now,  while  the  carriage  is  going  round 
these  long  zigzags,  shall  we  cut  across  them  ?  We  may 
take  it  very  easily  and  yet  keep  far  ahead  of  the  horses." 

The  path  lay  over  beds  of  loose  stone,  washed  into 
the  foot-furrow,  over  tables  and  ridges  of  rock,  through 
hollows  rilled  with  blooming  heather,  where  the  rock- 
rose  and  the  club-moss  and  the  purple  erica  brightened 
the  treeless  hillside.  The  gentian  wrapped  its  whorl 
of  blue  around  an  unopened  calyx,  and  here  and  there 
a  sprig  of  edelweiss  reared  its  fleecy  crown  like  a  white 
coral  branchlet.  A  fresh,  damp  wind  from  the  south 
drove  heavy  columns  of  vapor  from  the  valleys  below ; 
now  and  then  came  a  momentary  spit  of  rain,  and  then 
the  sun  would  break  through  and  glint  upon  slanting 
showers  of  snow  trooping  along  the  sides  of  the  Spitzli- 
horn  and  the  Galenstock,  which  was  now  becoming  visi- 
ble. A  walk  of  an  hour  and  a  half  brought  them  to  the 
little  hamlet  of  Realp,  beyond  which,  for  five  miles,  to 
the  summit  of  the  Furca  Pass,  are  no  human  habitations. 
They  sat  awhile  on  the  benches  in  front  of  the  little  hos- 
pice, drinking  "  Acier  du  Rhone  "  from  the  bottle  held 
by  the  burly  Priest  Hugo,  who,  in  cowl  and  stole,  tempts 
passing  travellers  with  good  wine.  The  talk  was  of  the 
route,  and  the  question  whether  they  should  attempt  the 
next  stretch  of  five  miles  on  foot.  The  Capuchin  had 
much  to  say  of  the  Elmeten  and  Wasser  Alp,  which  were 
.to  be  traversed.  The  ladies  were  in  favor  of  walking 


THE  FURCA.  59 


over  so  many  summits,  as  they  supposed;  but  when 
Robert  explained  to  them  that,  in  the  local  language, 
< '  alp  "  means  a  pasture-ground,  and  that  these  particu- 
lar pastures  were  very  sterile  and  monotonous,  that 
the  carriage-road  really  gave  a  better  view,  and  that 
there  was  a  good  chance  of  a  snow-storm  before  they 
could  reach  the  Furca,  they  concluded  to  ride,  —  a  for- 
tunate conclusion,  for  as  they  were  entering  upon  the 
last  mile  a  tempest  of  sleet  and  snow  and  sharp  hail 
broke  over  them  with  such  force  as  to  blind  the  horses. 
The  driver  descended  and  stood  between  their  heads, 
holding  the  bridles,  and  the  party  clustered  in  the  lee  of 
the  wagon,  rolled  in  plaids,  with  backs  turned  to  the 
wind.  Fortunately  it  proved  to  be  the  last  storm-gust 
of  the  day,  and  when,  a  little  after  noon,  they  emerged 
upon  the  plateau  of  the  Furca,  the  meridian  sun  was 
shining  from  a  cloudless  sky  on  a  pure  surface  of  fresh- 
fallen  snow  and  down  into  the  deep  chasm  of  the 
Rhone  valley,  while  far  and  clear  the  peaks  which  clus- 
ter around  the  Finster-Aarhorn,  loftiest  of  the  Bernese 
mountains,  shone  in  dazzling  white. 

Half  an  hour  at  the  little  inn,  and  they  started  again. 
At  the  second  turn  of  the  road  they  alighted,  packed  all 
needless  wraps,  bade  the  driver  order  dinner  at  half 
past  three  at  the  Hotel  Glacier  du  Rhone,  and  watched 
the  carriage  as  it  went  spinning  down  the  sharp  curves 
and  whirling  round  the  angles  of  the  road. 

Presently  they  came  upon  the  border  of  the  glacier, 
in  some  respects  the  most  imposing  in  Switzerland.  A 
thousand  feet  high,  almost  a  mile  wide,  precipitous,  it, 


60  MANUELA  PARADES. 

more  than  any  other  glacier,  justifies  Coleridge's  de- 
scription :  — 

"  Motionless  torrent,  silent  cataract  1 " 

Rifted  with  chasms,  full  of  dropping  wells,  and  glitter- 
ing in  its  white  wreath  of  new-fallen  snow,  fitly  named 
by  the  ancients  the  Pillar  of  the  Sun.  From  beneath  it 
the  infant  Rhone,  a  pale  opaline  brook,  dashing  over 
the  stones  of  the  moraine,  begins  its  long  way  to  the 
sea. 

A  loitering  walk  of  two  hours  and  a  half  along  the 
side  and  upon  the  surface  of  the  glacier  brought  them 
to  the  end  of  the  day's  stage  at  the  hotel  below,  to 
a  well-served  dinner,  and  an  evening  of  story-telling  and 
music. 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.      6l 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    BARONESS   WALDEYER. 

the  morning  of  the  same  day,  while  her  children 
were  thus  climbing  the  high  places  of  the  world, 
Mrs.  Dysart,  with  her  friends  the  Irwins,  made  the  easy 
transit  from  Lucerne  to  Interlaken  by  rail.  As  she 
descended  from  her  carriage  at  the  portal  of  the  Bellevue 
Hotel,  she  saw  the  imposing  figure  of  the  Baroness 
Waldeyer,  attended  by  her  brother-in-law,  the  baron. 
They  were  standing  on  the  upper  balcony,  and  an  un- 
easy sense  of  surveillance  drifted  across  Mrs.  Dysart's 
mind.  She  could  not  help  feeling  that  her  coming  was 
waited  for  and  watched  by  these  people.  They  gave  her 
a  sense  of  the  evil  eye,  renewed  again,  later  in  the 
day,  as  she  met  them  in  the  salle-a-manger.  This  feel- 
ing was  painfully  quickened  when,  after  dinner,  a  ser- 
vant brought  to  her  a  note  bearing  the  baroness's  crest 
and  monogram.  It  was  a  very  simple  note,  however :  — 

"Will  Madame  Dysart  have  the  goodness  to  receive 
Madame  la  Baronne  Waldeyer  in  her  apartment  this 
evening,  if  convenient?  Mme.  Waldeyer  desires  to 
speak  of  a  conversation  which  occurred  yesterday  morn- 
ing with  Miss  Dysart  on  Lake  Lucerne.  " 

It  surprised  Mrs.  Dysart  that  this  note  was  written  in 


62  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

English,  with  an  ease  which  indicated  perfect  familiarity 
with  the  language.  What  instinct  it  was  which  made 
Mrs.  Dysart  shrink  from  the  interview,  she  could  not 
have  explained ;  but,  with  some  painful  hesitation,  she 
concluded  that  as  the  note  was  courteously  worded, 
and  suggested  a  reason  which  might  well  be  sufficient, 
she  was  not  at  liberty  to  decline  it.  So  she  returned 
brief  answer :  — 

"Madame  Dysart  will  be  pleased  to  receive  the 
Baroness  Waldeyer  in  her  apartment  at  eight  this  eve- 
ning." 

Thus,  while  the  younger  party  were  gathered  about  a 
round  table  in  the  far-off  hollow  of  the  mountains, 
and  stories  of  old  romance  and  modern  adventure 
went  round,  the  matrons  were  settling  themselves  for  a 
far  different  conversation.  Punctually  at  eight  the 
card  of  the  baroness  was  brought  in,  and  a  moment 
after  she  herself  entered,  with  a  serene  but  very  serious 
expression  on  her  beautiful  face.  Mrs.  Dysart  motioned 
her  to  a  seat.  It  happened  to  be  one  which  shielded  the 
baroness's  face  from  the  light,  but  left  that  of  Mrs.  Dysart 
in  full  light  of  the  chandelier,  and  a  quick  sense  of  the 
disadvantage  occurred  to  her  before  a  word  was  spoken. 

The  baroness  began.  "  Madame  is  very  kind  to  give 
me  this  opportunity.  I  am  sensible  of  it,  and  wish  to 
acknowledge  it  now,  before  —  if  ever  —  madame  shall 
have  any  reason  to  regret  this  occasion.  My  great 
respect  for  madame,  and  my  desire  to  possess  some- 
thing of  her  esteem,  will  not  allow  me  to  approach  the 
matter  of  which  I  wish  to  speak  by  any  disguise  or 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.      63 

evasion."     She  paused  for  some  reply,  but  Mrs.  Dysart's 
only  answer  was  a  look  of  surprised  inquiry. 

The  baroness  resumed.  "  I  have  a  special  design 
and  interest  in  knowing  more  of  Miss  Dysart,  and,  for 
that  purpose  in  seeing  her  often  ;  and,  as  this  cannot  be 
without  your  knowledge  and  consent,  I  am  fain  to  seek 
it  through  them." 

She  paused  again,  and  this  time  so  definitively  that 
Mrs.  Dysart  was  obliged  to  reply,  and  she  said, 
"  Madame  will  understand  that  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know 
why  she,  a  perfect  stranger,  should  feel  such  an  interest 
in  my  daughter." 

The  baroness  frowned  slightly,  and  said,  "  You  have 
called  her  your  daughter.  She  is,  certainly,  the  daughter 
of  your  house ;  she  is,  doubtless,  the  daughter  of  your 
heart ;  but  madame  will  understand  me  better  when  I 
say  that  I  know  she  is  not  the  daughter  of  your  blood  !  " 

Mrs.  Dysart  clasped  her  hands  before  her,  and,  bend- 
ing forward,  with  passionate  glance,  cried,  "And  how 
comes  it  that,  for  the  first  time  in  twenty-five  years,  I 
hear  this  from  a  strange  woman  in  a  strange  land  ? " 

The  baroness's  steady  gaze  was  fixed  on  her  as  she 
answered,  "  Madame  admits  the  fad,  then  ?  She  has 
yet  to  learn  that,  in  announcing  this  truth,  I  speak  from 
a  motive  which  is  not,  for  me,  less  urgent  than  any  she 
can  have  for  concealing  it." 

"  It  remains  for  you,  then,  to  declare  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Dysart  coldly. 

"Yes,"  said  the  baroness,  "that  is  inevitable.  Do 
you  know  the  name  of  Manuela  Parades,  Mrs.  Dysart?" 

"  I  have  heard  it,"  was  the  answer. 


64  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"And  you  know,  then,  for  what  name  it  was 
changed  ? " 

"For  one  which  the  bearer  did  her  best  to  dishonor," 
said  Mrs.  Dysart  boldly  and  bitterly. 

"We  will  speak  of  that  by  and  by,  madame,"  said 
the  baroness.  "  It  is  in  the  daughter  of  Manuela  Pare- 
des  Dysart  that  I  take  so  great  an  interest.  She  is  my 
daughter."  It  was  spoken  with  an  air  of  mingled  shame 
and  pride,  which  immediately  gave  place  to  one  of  great 
gentleness  and  sweetness  as  she  added,  "  And  you,  my 
dear  madame,  who  have  succeeded  to  a  name  which 
once  was  mine,  and  have  borne  it  with  so  much  grace 
and  honor,  can  you  retain  an  unkind  feeling  toward  one 
who  opened  to  you  the  way  to  years  of  honored  and 
happy  life,  —  to  love,  which  is  the  charm  of  life,  —  to  a 
secure  and  brilliant  home  which  none  invades  or  threat- 
ens, —  to  a  sweet  group  of  children,  full  of  grace  and 
promise  ?  Can  your  mother's  heart  wonder  that  mine 
yearns  toward  the  only  child  I  ever  bore  ? " 

Mrs.  Dysart  softened  as  she  heard  the  earnest,  trem- 
ulous, tearful  voice  of  this  proud  and  desolate  woman, 
and  she  said  gently,  "  It  is  a  strange  story,  in  which  so 
many  chapters  are  wanting  that  I  cannot  yet  yield  my 
faith  to  any.  You  must  tell  me  your  history,  fully  and 
fairly,  before  I  canjiave  anything  to  say  to  you." 

"Listen,  then,"  said  the  baroness.  "You  will  hear 
from  me  much  which  you  must  have  already  heard  from 
your  husband,  and  much  of  which  I  believe  him  to  be 
ignorant.  Of  the  truth  of  its  facts  you  will  not  doubt. 
I  mean,  also,  that  you  shall  equally' believe  in  the  sin- 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.      65 

cerity  of  the  sentiments  which  I  profess.  If  I  show  my 
whole  nature  to  you,  just  as  it  is,  —  if  I  am  thoroughly 
true  to  that,  —  then  you  cannot  choose  but  know  it  is 
the  truth  I  speak.  Yes,  I  was  Manuela  Pare'des,  a  Mex- 
ican girl,  born  and  bred  in  the  small  and  remote  state  of 
Zacatecas,  among  dry  mountains  and  deep  valleys,  taught 
in  an  Ursuline  convent  from  my  sixth  to  my  sixteenth 
year,  and  then,  when  my  mother  died,  taken  home  to  be 
the  companion  of  my  father's  solitary  life  at  his  mining 
hacienda.  It  was  there  I  met  Mr.  Adrian  Dysart,  —  a 
young  man  of  twenty-five,  a  skilful  engineer,  trained  in 
the  mining  schools  of  Saxony.  Born  in  England,  of 
Belgian  parents,  he  had  spent  his  life  from  seventeen  to 
twenty  in  the  banking-house  of  Ferreira  in  London  ;  from 
twenty  to  twenty-three  in  the  mining  school  at  Freiburg; 
then  one  year  in  the  service  of  an  English  mining  com- 
pany in  Peru ;  and  thence,  dissatisfied,  had  gone  to 
Mexico,  where  my  father  found  him,  and  took  him  to 
Zacatecas  to  explore  his  silver  mines,  which,  after  the 
manner  of  his  ancestors,  he  had  worked  for  many  years 
at  a  moderate  profit.  He  brought  with  him  all  that  was 
then  known  of  geology  ;  he  explored  the  old  works  ;  he 
saw  for  himself  and  persuaded  my  father  that  the  deep- 
est shaft  of  his  old-fashioned  mine,  if  pushed  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountain,  would  strike  a  great  body  of  rich 
ore.  The  argument  was  good,  the  profit  would  be  great. 
To  realize  it  my  father  invested  all  his  means  and  taxed 
to  the  utmost  his  local  credit.  Such  was  the  state  of 
affairs  when  I,  a  young  girl  of  seventeen,  returned  to 
my  father's  house.  5 

5 


66  MANUELA   PARADES, 

"Adrian  was  handsome;  so,  I  believe,  was  I.  No 
other  man  who  came  to  our  remote  abode  could  com- 
pare with  him ;  no  other  girl  whom  he  could  meet  there 
had  even  my  poor  power  to  attract  him. 

"  My  father  wished  in  every  way  to  bind  to  his  interests 
one  for  whose  honor  and  probity  he  had  such  unlimited 
respect,  and  who  he  fully  believed  would  be  the  archi- 
tect of  a  great  fortune  for  himself.  He  threw  us  to- 
gether; and  Mr.  Dysart,  mistaking,  perhaps,  the  feeling 
which  he  had  for  me,  asked  my  hand.  We  were  mar- 
ried, —  the  mature,  grave,  laborious,  ambitious  man  to 
the  young  girl  whose  physical  nature  only  was  complete, 
while  her  faculties  of  mind  and  heart  had  never  been 
called  into  life.  Whatever  of  scope  and  knowledge  I 
may  have  since  attained,  I  owe  it  all  to  the  patient,  love- 
directed  education  of  the  late  Baron  Waldeyer,  who, 
though  he  may  seem  to  you  to  have  defied  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  social  morality,  ever  was  and  ever  will  remain 
to  me  the  best  type  of  a  pure-hearted,  noble-minded  man. 
Mr.  Dysart  must  from  the  first  have  felt  that  the  tie  be- 
tween us  was  no  more  than  a  legal  obligation,  redeemed 
and  beautified  by  no  harmonies  of  thought  or  feeling, 
and  as  this  sense  slowly  grew  upon  me,  it  led  me  to 
desperate  thoughts  and  deeds.  I  blame  him,  with  his 
knowledge  of  life  and  character,  that  he  could  ever  have 
consented  thus  to  defraud  a  young  and  ardent  nature ; 
and  I  pity  him  as  well,  for,  except  for  my  act,  which  sun- 
dered this  unhappy  tie,  he  would  have  closed  upon  him- 
self forever  all  prospect,  all  chance,  of  the  domestic 
affection  and  happiness  which  belonged  to  his  years. 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.      67 

"  We  had  been  married  but  a  month  when  his  mining 
plans  seemed  to  be  crowned  with  a  great  success.  His 
excavations  reached  a  large  body  of  the  richest  ore.  For 
a  few  days  the  vision  of  great  wealth  was  before  us,  when 
an  unlucky  blast  broke  into  a  subterranean  water-channel, 
and  in  a  few  hours  the  whole  mine  was  completely  flooded. 
The  whole  of  my  father's  capital,  and  nearly  all  his  own, 
had  already  been  expended,  and  this  catastrophe  meant 
ruin  for  us  all.  Mr.  Dysart  at  once  determined  to  go  to 
England,  raise  a  large  sum  on  the  security  of  the  mine, 
and  buy  and  forward  the  best  pumping  machinery.  My 
father  put  into  his  hands  all  the  records  and  titles  to  the 
property.  He  delayed  a  few  months,  to  start  an  adit  in 
the  valley  which  he  hoped  might  drain  a  portion  of  the 
mine,  and  then  he  started,  taking  me  with  him.  Four 
months  after  our  arrival  in  England  Helen  was  born, 
and  one  month  before  her  birth  we  received  intelligence 
of  the  death  of  my  father  by  a  cruel  accident  in  the 
mine.  Mr.  Dysart  was  constantly  absent  in  Wales,  in 
Cornwall,  in  Scotland,  —  wherever  he  might  study  the 
latest  improvements  in  mining  and  machinery.  He  had 
planned  to  be  with  me  at  my  confinement,  but  it  was  a 
little  premature  and  occurred  in  his  absence.  Thanks 
to  my  youth  and  the  excellent  medical  care  provided,  I 
recovered  my  physical  health  perfectly ;  but  the  shock 
of  my  father's  horrible  death,  the  isolation  of  a  strange 
land,  and  above  all  the  exact  and  cold  duty  which  gov- 
erned all  Mr.  Dysart's  relations  to  me,  his  long  absences 
and  absorption  in  business,  so  wrought  into  my  young 
mind  the  sense  of  a  solitary  and  loveless  life  that  I  fell 


68  MANUELA   PARADES. 

—  as  I  believe  would  now  be  conceded  by  all  medical 
men  —  into  one  of  those  monomanias  which  are  as  a 
strand  of  insanity  in  an  otherwise  rational  nature.  At 
any  rate,  my  whole  being  was  rilled  with  an  intense  aver- 
sion to  my  husband ;  even  his  child,  beautiful  baby  as 
she  was,  I  did  not  love.  This  was  certainly  a  morbid, 
unnatural  state  of  mind,  and  yet  the  reserve  of  an  in- 
tense nature  enabled  me  to  control  in  great  part  the 
manifestation  of  it,  and  to  suffer  only  so  much  to  appear 
as  was  attributed  to  my  general  waywardness. 

"  A  fortnight  after  the  birth  of  my  child  Mr.  Dysart 
left  me  for  a  long  series  of  business  expeditions,  and  I 
fell  into  the  way  of  visiting  the  various  museums  of 
paintings.  Naturally  my  acquaintance  was  mostly  with 
the  French  and  Spanish  in  London,  for  I  was  more 
familiar' with  both  of  these  languages  than  with  English 
even.  At  the  National  Academy  I  first  met  the  Baron 
Waldeyer  and  also  the  Count  de  Zarzuela.  Both  were 
interested  in  me,  I  in  the  baron  only.  The  count  came 
sometimes  at  first  to  call  upon  me,  the  baron  never ;  but 
we  often  met  at  the  galleries.  In  a  few  weeks  he  had 
my  whole  confidence,  my  whole  heart,  my  whole  history. 
I  began  to  copy  a  picture  of  Paul  Veronese  to  furnish  a 
reason  for  my  frequent  visits,  and  he  habitually  met  me 
when  I  left  the  building,  and  attended  my  homeward 
walk  to  within  a  few  squares  of  my  house.  He  was 
careful  not  to  compromise  me  in  any  way,  but  his  gen- 
tleness and  his  enthusiasm  in  his  views  upon  social  ques- 
tions revealed  a  new  life  to  me ;  and  all  the  promise  of 
those  days  has  been  fulfilled  day  by  day  for  twenty-seven 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.      69 

years.  It  could  not  be  said  that  he  tempted  me  from 
my  home  :  it  was  rather  I  who  was  determined  to  desert 
it,  determined  to  possess  and  enjoy  that  sympathy  which 
comprehended  and  valued  every  movement  of  my  na- 
ture. So  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  join  him  in  Brus- 
sels, and  that  we  should  go  thence  to  a  quiet  town  in 
the  north  of  Spain. 

"  One  day  I  left  my  house  at  the  hour  at  which  I  was 
accustomed  to  go  to  the  gallery,  and  before  noon  was 
on  my  way  across  the  Channel.  I  left  a  note  for  Mr. 
Dysart,  where  I  knew  it  would  some  day  be  found. 
That  note  you  may  have  seen  ? " 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart. 

"  Then,  perhaps,  you  will  recognize  this  copy,  which 
I  have  brought  with  me  to  verify  my  statements  "  ;  and 
the  baroness  handed  her  a  little  sheet,  traced  in  faded 
characters,  which  Mrs.  Dysart  eagerly  read. 

"Adrian,  adieu!  For  good  or  for  ill,  I  am  leaving 
you  forever.  Wedded  life,  for  us  both,  has  been  an 
unending  and  undiminishing  sacrifice.  For  the  sake  of 
the  years  which  are  before  each  of  us,  I  must  take  this 
step.  Our  burdens  are  similar,  but  they  are  not  equal, 
for  the  love  which  my  nature  demands  is  an  episode  in 
man's  life,  but  is  the  substance  of  woman's.  Let  me 
seek  it  where  I  may,  —  let  me  go !  Do  not  look  for 
me,  —  do  not  seek  to  fetter  your  life  again  with  the 
chain  which  I  thus  break.  No  stain,  no  reproach,  shall 
rest  upon  you.  I  charge  you  with  no  unkindness  of 
word  or  deed.  Thus  far  you  have  been  careful,  liberal, 
generous  toward  me,  and  I  have  been  obedient  and 


70  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

submissive  toward  you.  But,  O  Adrian,  there  never 
was,  there  never  can  be,  any  love  between  us.  Why 
should  we  wear  its  chain  ?  My  name,  my  child,  my 
fortune,  —  I  leave  them  all :  there  is  no  other  choice 
for  me.  If  time  shall  ever  show  that  what  the  Church 
and  the  World  unite  to  call  a  wrong  is  Nature's  sub- 
stantial truth,  and  carries  with  it  Nature's  blessing  for 
both  of  us,  you  will  hear  from  me  again.  Meantime 
the  law  gives  to  the  man,  who  has  been  thus  abandoned, 
release  from  the  tie  which  I  now  and  forever  renounce. 
I,  I  alone,  am  the  outlaw,  and  the  social  penalties  of 
the  outlaw  I  must  bear. 

"  God  bless  you,  Adrian !  and,  when  time  has  healed 
this  scar,  give  to  you  some  fair,  good  woman,  who  shall 
be  the  wife  of  your  mind,  of  your  heart,  and  your  pride. 
My  brain  swims  and  fire  dances  before  my  eyes  as  I 
write  this,  but  in  my  heart  I  know  only  sorrow  and 

kindness  for  you. 

"  MANUELA." 

In  spite  of  herself,  Mrs.  Dysart  was  touched  by  this 
note,  which  bore  date,  "London,  July  12,  1849."  She 
folded  it  and  returned  it  to  the  baroness,  saying,  "  Yes, 
it  is  the  same ;  and  your  story  is  but  another  version  of 
circumstances  of  which  I  already  knew  the  greater 
part." 

The  baroness  resumed.  "You  will  believe  me, 
madame,  that  I  have  not  forced  this  story  upon  your 
attention  for  any  other  reason  than  that  which  belongs 
to  a  widowed  mother,  bereaved  of  a  child,  to  regain 
whom  she  would  give  anything  in  life.  I  do  not  under- 


THE  BARONESS   WALDEYER. 


rate  my  difficulties.  The  strength  of  possession,  the 
shield  of  all  the  world's  conventions,  is  with  you.  It 
becomes  me,  therefore,  just  now  to  be  silent,  except  you 
wish  me  to  speak.  Whatever  else  you  wish  to  learn 
shall  be  told  you,  justly  and  truly." 

And  then  there  was  silence.  The  attitude,  the  rela- 
tions, of  the  parties  were  so  strange  that  Mrs.  Dysart 
could  not  at  once  collect  her  thoughts  and  command  a 
clear  judgment.  At  length  she  said,  "  Madame  Wal- 
deyer  will  understand  that  many  questions  will  suggest 
themselves  to  me  which  I  hesitate  to  ask.  I  have  to 
guard  the  feelings  and  the  interests  of  a  family  ;  I  have 
to  defend  my  own  weak  health  against  the  shock  of 
knowledge  which  is  painful  to  me,  and  profitless  ;  and  I 
have  also  to  consider  the  feelings  of  one  who,  whatever 
may  be  her  purpose,  and  whatever  the  judgment  which 
I  may  finally  put  upon  her,  seems  at  present  to  seek  to 
disarm  resentment  by  a  gentle  and  considerate  manner. 
Still,  I  cannot  forbear  asking  some  questions,  which  you 
can  answer  or  not,  as  you  please.  But  be  careful, 
madame  !  You  have  roused  my  mind  to  very  unwonted 
activity,  and  I  will  not  pledge  myself  as  to  the  use  I  may 
make  of  what  I  learn. 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  why  have  you  allowed  us  so 
long  to  believe  that  you  eloped  with  the  Count  de  Zar- 
zuela,  and  that  you  were  drowned  with  him,  three  days 
after,  off  the  coast  of  Spain  ?  And  why  have  you  with- 
held from  us  the  knowledge  of  your  existence  for  more 
than  twenty-five  years  ?  " 

The  baroness  smiled.     "  That  I  can  readily  answer. 


72  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

The  Baron  Waldeyer  was  a  very  peculiar  man.  From 
the  first,  he  intended  that  I  should  feel,  as  he  appeared 
to  do,  that  happiness  and  devotion  to  each  other  gave 
the  highest  sanction  to  our  relation,  which  he  strove  to 
dignify  and  refine  in  every  way.  We  were  not  the 
victims  of  a  sudden  and  transient  attraction.  Such  as 
grew  up  between  us  was  matured  in  the  light  of  his 
intensely  thoughtful  and  poetic  nature.  If  the  step 
which  I  took  was  an  error,  he  took  care  that  I  should 
know  fully  what  I  was  doing.  He  set  before  me  fairly 
all  the  consequences  it  would  involve.  He  even  bade 
me  remember  that,  as  a  matter  of  history,  ties  thus 
formed,  usually  had  a  sad  and  disastrous  ending.  More 
than  all  things  else  he  seemed  to  fear  that  it  should 
fade  or  fail  or  suffer  any  interruption.  He  taught  me  that 
love  could  only  survive  in  harmony  of  opinion,  in  sacri- 
fice of  personal  feeling,  in  respect  for  each  other's  char- 
acter and  motives.  He  would  not  have  permitted  —  in 
fact,  neither  of  us  would  have  been  capable  of  starting 
or  circulating  the  story  of  the  Count  de  Zarzuela.  It  was 
not  even  known  to  us  until  long  afterward  that  rumor 
connected  my  name  and  fate  with  his,  or  that  we  learned 
definitely  the  circumstances  of  his  death.  Some  domes- 
.tic  event  in  his  family  required  his  immediate  return  to 
Spain.  He  left  on  the  same  day  that  I  did,  taking  with 
him  a  French  nurse,  who,  in  answer  to  a  telegram,  had 
been  sent  on  from  Paris  and  joined  him  at  Southhamp- 
ton,  an  hour  before  he  sailed,  on  a  yacht  which  had 
been  expressly  chartered  for  him.  Three  days  later 
this  yacht  was  run  down  in  the  night  by  a  sailing  vessel, 


THE  BARONESS    WALDEYER.  73 

and  sunk  off  the  coast  of  Biscay.  When  we  learned 
the  rumor,  which  had  perhaps  shielded  us  from  pursuit, 
and  for  which  we  were  in  no  way  responsible,  we  did 
not  think  it  needful  to  contradict  it,  as  it  concerned 
only  the  dead.  We  knew  that  Mr.  Dysart  had  married 
again,  believing  himself  a  widower,  and  that  the  reve- 
lation now  would  cause  endless  trouble  to  him  and  our- 
selves. In  the  current  opinion  I  was  a  Spanish  lady 
whom  the  baron  had  married.  We  had  spent  a  month 
in  Malaga  after  leaving  Brussels,  and  thence  went  to 
Salonica  in  Turkey,  where  we  lived  three  years,  until 
we  were  quite  forgotten  in  England.  The  baron  had 
visited  England  after  the  death  of  his  widowed  mother, 
and  had  left  his  brother  for  education  in  an  English 
school  at  Lausanne,  so  that  there  was  absolutely  no  one 
to  question  our  acts  or  motives.  His  unfailing  love 
and  sympathy  left  me  little  to  wish.  It  was  my  great 
treasure,  not  to  be  imperilled  by  any  vain  curiosity. 
But  I  had  always  yearned  after  my  child,  and  since 
the  death  of  my  husband,  two  years  ago,  it  has  seemed 
in  my  desolation  and  hunger  of  trie  heart,  as  though 
I  could  not  live  without  her.  And  now,  perhaps,  you 
can  guess  whence  came  yearly  Helen's  Christmas  box 
since  she  was  ten  years  old.  Every  year  I  have  re- 
mitted to  an  agent  in  New  York  a  thousand  francs, 
and  every  year  have  received  from  him  a  list  of  the 
contents  and  the  receipt  every  year  of  a  different  ex- 
press company  employed  to  deliver  them  at  your  house. 
Here  is  the  latest,  dated  December  24,  1875." 

"The  annual  mystery  of  our  house,"  said  Mrs.  Dy- 


74  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

sart;  "but  we  never  looked  beyond  the  sea  for  its 
source,  as  the  gifts  were  all  evidently  bought  in  New 
York.  Now  will  you  tell  me  how  it  is  that  you  have 
found  us  here  in  Switzerland,  and  have  chosen  this  time 
and  place  for  your  purpose  ? " 

The  baroness  resumed  :  "  It  has  been  my  purpose  — 
if  I  may  use  your  word  —  to  move  in  this  matter  as  soon 
and  as  directly  as  I  might ;  and  when  I  learned  from 
New  York  that  you  were  to  be  in  Switzerland  for  the 
months  of  July  and  August,  I  came  early,  hoping  to 
meet  you  somewhere.  Our  first  stage  was  Lucerne,  and 
there  we  happened  to  find  your  names  upon  the  register 
of  the  hotel.  The  rest  must  be  clear  to  you." 

"  You  say,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  that  you  learned  from 
New  York." 

"  Yes,"  responded  Madame  Waldeyer  ;  "  my  agent, 
Mr.  Fayrolle,  has  called  upon  Mr.  Dysart." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  now  I  understand  Julia's 
letter." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  baroness  ;  "  he  at  least  knows  of  my 
existence,  and  something  of  my  wishes,  —  less,  however, 
than  you  now  know." 

"  Still,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  I  must  beg  that  you  will 
explain  them  further  and  more  definitely." 

The  baroness  hesitated,  but  added,  "  My  dear  ma- 
dame,  do  not  ask  me  to  say  more  now.  Would  it  not 
be  well  that  you  should  first  know  me  a  little  better, 
and  that  each  should  recognize  the  fact  that  in  Helen 
we  have  a  common  object  of  interest  and  affection  ? 
It  may  be  that  you  will  yet  accept  from  me  the  heart- 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.       ?$ 

felt  love  and  duty  which  I  owe  to  the  woman  who  has 
righted  the  wrong  my  act  involved ;  who  has  sur- 
rounded my  child  from  her  cradle  with  a  true  mother's 
love  and  care ;  who  has  formed  in  her  a  person  and 
a  mind  fit  for  any  destiny.  There  is  no  one  in  all  this 
world  to  whom  at  this  moment  I  owe  so  much  as  to 
you !  "  The  baroness  rose,  with  quick  impulse  and 
streaming  eyes,  knelt  at  Mrs.  Dysart's  feet,  clasped  her 
hand,  and,  bowing  her  gray  head  upon  it,  kissed  it  and 
was  silent. 

Mrs.  Dysart  regarded  her  with  mixed  emotion,  but 
she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand.  She  laid  her  other 
gently  on  the  still  fair,  round  shoulder  of  the  sobbing 
woman,  as  she  said,  "  Dear  Madame  Waldeyer,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  feel  for  you,  whether  I  can  feel  with 
you  or  not.  You  prove  so  altogether  different  from 
anything  which  I  could  have  supposed  that  Manuela 
Parades  could  become." 

The  baroness  rose  and  steadied  herself,  as  if  to 
reassume  her  wonted  self-control ;  but  the  effort  was 
vain,  she  tottered  to  her  chair  and  sank  back  into  it.  At 
length  she  rose,  and,  hesitating,  with  a  blush  and  smile, 
said,  "  After  such  proof  of  weakness,  Mrs.  Dysart  at 
least  will  not  find  anything  formidable  in  me.  We  have 
so  much  to  think  of  that  solitude  will  be  good  for  us 
both.  Adieu,  madaine,  and  thank  you  for  your  kind 
attention  and  regard."  She  turned  at  the  door,  bowed 
gracefully,  and  went  out. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  the  baroness  reached  her 
apartment  and  found  the  baron  awaiting  her.  He 
scanned  her  face  carefully  as  she  entered. 


76  MANUELA   PAREDES. 

"  How  goes  it,  Manuela  ? "  said  he. 

The  baroness  dropped  wearily  into  her  chair,  and 
folded  her  hands  in  her  lap.  "  Indeed,  I  cannot  tell, 
Adolphe.  I  hope  not  badly.  Madame  Dysart  is  not 
so  difficult  as  I  feared.  She  seems  to  have  both  sense 
and  feeling." 

"  What  did  you  fear  ?  "  said  the  baron. 

"  I  feared  that  she  would  be  either  rude  or  hysterical, 
—  that  she  would  be  so  distracted  and  upset  that  one 
could  make  no  sure  progress  with  her,  or  that  she  would 
give  me  no  fair  opportunity  to  show  my  meaning  and 
the  strength  of  the  case.  Instead  of  which  she  heard 
me  patiently ;  she  attempted  no  reproaches ;  she  was 
reserved,  it  is  true,  deliberate  and  careful,  but  she 
seemed  to  comprehend  and  respect  my  feelings  and 
position." 

"And  you  told  her  —  " 

"  Almost  everything.  There  was  no  mention  made  of 
you,  however,  mon  cher  " ;  and  she  smiled,  a  sweet  but 
sorrowful  smile. 

"  And  the  young  lady,  —  Helen  ?  Does  she  know 
her  true  relation  to  the  family?  " 

"  I  did  not  ask,  and  she  said  nothing  about  it.  I 
think  not,  however." 

"  Was  anything  said  of  that  gentleman,  —  the  Ameri- 
can who  is  with  the  party  ?  " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Did  any  items  of  the  young  lady's  history  appear  ?  " 

"  Nothing.  In  fact,  Adolphe,  I  could  do  no  more  at 
one  hearing  than  to  convince  Madame  Dysart  of  my 


THE  BARONESS  WALDEYER.       77 

identity,  and  to  attempt  to  propitiate  her  interest  and 
sympathy.  I  can  only  hope  I  may  have  left  as  favora- 
ble an  impression  on  her  mind  as  she  has  on  mine. 
But  I  see  that  at  every  stage  I  shall  have  to  force  my 
way  to  a  hearing.  Aggressive  all  the  time,  —  oh,  how 
hard !  " 

"  Did  you  not  appoint  another  interview  ?  " 
"  No,  Adolphe.  In  fact,  I  left  in  confusion.  It  was 
very  sad  and  strange  for  me  to  sue  to  a  stranger,  and  to 
feel  that  she  regarded  me  as  a  sinful  woman,  a 'danger- 
ous adventuress,  and  to  perceive  that  she  knew  and 
would  believe  no  good  of  Alexandre.  Loved  and  hon- 
ored as  I  have  been,  it  was  very  hard  to  be  put  on  my 
defence,  and  to  have  to  prove  my  claim  to  common  pro- 
priety of  feeling  and  behavior.  No  one  who  has  not 
been  in  such  a  case  can  tell  how  strong  are  the  forces 
which  confront  a  woman  who  has  dared  to  live  her  own 
life  in  the  world.  I  have  been  a  pariah  in  their  eyes 
for  years.  Can  I  ever  be  anything  better  ?  Go,  now, 
Adolphe.  I  am  so  Very  tired  that  I  must  neither  talk 
nor  think  any  more  just  now." 

It  was  very  late  that  night  before  either  of  these  two 
women  slept. 


78  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   FALLS   OF    THE    HANDECK. 

WHEN  ladies  are  concerned  in  Alpine  excursions, 
so  much  depends  on  weather,  that  Robert  de- 
ferred the  programme  of  the  next  day  until  morning. 
He  sent  this  card  up  to  the  ladies  at  6  A.  M.  :  —  "  Break- 
fast at  7.  Two  hours  on '  horseback,  then  six  hours' 
walk.  All  luggage  will  be  sent  by  mule,  and  will  be 
accessible  at  any  time.  Short  and  light  dresses  are  in 
order." 

At  a  quarter  past  six  the  party  had  gathered  on  the 
piazza  and  were  waiting  for  Robert  to  come  to  break- 
fast. "  What  a  life  you  must  lead  with  that  brother  of 
yours  !  "  said  Alice  to  Walter,  teasingly.  "  He  issues 
his  orders  as  though  he  were  at  least  a  major-general. 
Helen  and  I  are  in  the  habit  of  having  our  little  say 
about  things  in  general,  and  it  seems  very  odd  to  be 
under  such  rigid  discipline.  There  he  is,  standing 
against  that  pillar  at  the  end.  Come,  let 's  all  parade 
before  him,  like  a  corporal's  guard.  Take  your  alpen- 
stocks for  guns.  Shoulder  —  arms  ! "  She  began  to 
sing  La  Parisienne :  — 

" '  En  avant !   Marchons 
Centre  leur  canons, 
Travers  le  feu,  —  le  fer  de  battaillons.' 


THE  FALLS  OF   THE  HANDECK.  79 

Forward  —  march  !  "  And  with  steps  accenting  the  lively 
air,  all  except  Helen  filed  in  front  of  Robert. 

He  appreciated  the  joke,  and,  hat  in  hand,  with  a 
grand  air,  bowed  like  a  general  at  a  review. 

Alice,  struggling  with  her  laughter,  cried,  "  Oh  !  if 
you  could  only  see  how  perfectly  absurd  you  look  ! " 

"  I  dare  say,  my  child,"  said  Robert ;  "  but  something 
must  be  done  to  keep  you  in  countenance." 

"  '  My  child  '  ?  Upon  my  word  ! "  cried  Alice.  "  I 
shall  run " ;  and,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she 
sprang  from  the  piazza..  Walter  followed,  and  they 
went  racing  down  the 'road.  Presently  they  were  seen 
returning,  arm  in  arm,  and  grave  as  judges ;  and,  this 
little  escapade  over,  the  party  went  in  to  breakfast. 

"  That  will  do  for  the  morning,"  said  Robert.  "  You 
won't  feel  like  frolicking  to-night  when  you  get  into 
Meiringen,  all  draggled  and  collapsed." 

"  What  is  there  to  draggle,  I  should  like  to  know  ? " 
said  Alice,  shaking  her  short  skirt. 

"Your  shoulders  and  your  eyelids,  pretty  maid," 
said  he.  "  You  will  know  something  about  a  fatigue- 
party  by  sundown." 

"  Where  shall  we  be  to-morrow  ? "  asked  Helen. 

"  Oh,  to-morrow  will  be  easy,"  Robert  answered ;  "  all 
carriage  and  steamboat,  except  one  little  scramble  up 
the  Giesbach,  and  that  you  can  do  in  a  chaise  a  porteur, 
if  you  like." 

"That  is  something  I  had  resolved  not  to  do,"  said 
Helen.  "It  may  suit  Europeans,  —  but  the  idea  of 
men  carrying  such  a  human  load  is  not  American  or 


80  MANUELA    PARADES. 

democratic.  It  is  all  the  worse  that  they  are  so  ready 
to  do  it  for  money." 

"I  like  your  feeling,"  said  Robert,  "and  yet  I  can 
imagine  circumstances  in  which  I  should  be  very  glad 
to  put  you  into  a  chair.  It  is  a  safe  and  easy  method 
for  invalids." 

"  What  alarming  forethought !  "  said  Helen. 

"That  is  nothing,"  he  answered.  "  You  can't  imag- 
ine how  careful  and  prudent  I  resolved  to  be  when 
your  mother  consented  to  let  you  go  with  me  on  this 
excursion.  How  could  I  face  her  if  you  returned  ill 
or  worn  out?  I  should  have  to* answer  to  the  baroness 
too,  who  looked  yesterday  as  if  she  thought  you  were 
above  all  price.  Do  you  know,  I  could  not  help  think- 
ing there  was  a  strong  likeness  between  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Audran,  even  for  comparing  me  to 
a  woman  of  sixty ;  for  any  one  might  be  proud  to  be  as 
graceful  and  engaging  as  she.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
of  her,  and  wishing  that  I  knew  more  of  her  history." 

"  She  has  one,  you  may  be  sure."  said  Robert. 
"  Such  strong  impulses  and  such  habitual  self-control 
are  only  harmonized  by  discipline.  She  is  certainly  a 
remarkable  character." 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Helen.  "  There  was  some- 
thing absolutely  magnetic  and  thrilling  about  her  yester- 
day to  me.  And  I  like  the  baron,  too  ;  he  seemed  so 
loyal  and  attentive  to  his  sister." 

"  He  is  a  very  pleasant  and  chivalric  person,  I 
believe,"  said  Robert,  "  but  if  I  am  to  continue  of  that 
opinion,  you  must  not  praise  him  too  much." 


THE  FALLS   OF  THE  HAN  DECK.  8 1 

"  You  said  something  to  me  yesterday,  Mr.  Audran, 
about  being  troublesome ;  and  now  you  instruct  me  in 
the  methods  of  self-defence." 

"The  'womanly  art  of  self-defence,'"  said  Robert. 
"  I  am  sure  it  is  needless." 

"  Doubtless,  at  present,"  said  Helen,  piqued  at  the 
turn  which  the  conversation  was  taking. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Dysart.  Your  satire  is 
the  last  thing  which  I  would  invoke." 

"  It  would  be  a  poor  return,  Mr.  Audran,  for  your 
kindness  to  all  of  us." 

"What  kind  of  quarrel  is  this,  I  wonder?"  said 
Alice,  roguishly. 

They  were  soon  mounted  and  climbing  the  slope 
which  rises  precipitously  behind  the  hotel.  The  moun- 
tain-side, facing  south,  almost  two  thousand  feet  high, 
is  protected  from  both  the  north  and  east  winds,  and 
lies  open  to  the  sun  for  three  quarters  of  the  day.  It 
is  clothed  with  the  richest  Alpine  verdure,  and  is 
famed  for  its  rhododendrons,  azaleas,  and  heather- 
bloom.  They  give  it  its  name,  —  the  Maienwand,  or 
Wall  of  May. 

The  bridle-path  zigzags  back  and  forth  along  the 
slope,  which  is  too  steep  to  be  scaled  by  direct  ap- 
proach. The  morning  was  beautiful,  as  only  a  morning 
in  early  summer  can  be.  A  party  of  ten  were  just 
before  them,  with  their  complement  of  guides,  the  two 
together  making  a  long  cavalcade,  winding  upward. 
The  incense  of  fields  of  bloom,  distilling  in  the  bright 
sunshine,  the  gay  scarfs  and  dresses  of  the  riders  flut- 

6 


82  MANUELA    PARADES. 

tering  in  the  morning  wind,  the  hum  of  bees,  the  tinkle 
of  many  cow-bells,  the  calls  from  rank  to  rank  of  the 
procession,  the  cawing  of  the  ravens  which  circled 
round  their  heads,  and  then,  on  balanced  and  glisten- 
ing wings,  went  sliding  down  into  the  deep  valley 
below,  made  the  solitude  vocal  with  the  fulness  of  life, 
in  contrast  with  the  cold  glacier  on  the  east  and  the 
bare,  brown  rocks  on  the  south.  Far  below,  along  the 
course  of  the  infant  Rhone,  ran  the  road,  with  here 
and  there  a  tourist's  carriage,  or  foot-travellers,  like 
motes  in  the  distance.  Near  the  summit,  Robert  halted 
his  party  for  a  little,  to  make  division  between  it  and 
that  which  preceded  it ;  and  they  watched  them  as  one 
by  one  they  reached  the  top,  and  disappeared  on  the 
other  side  of  the  crest,  each  figure  strongly  relieved 
against  the  white  northern  sky;  then  they  in  turn 
passed  the  ridge,  and  at  once  the  scene  changed.  All 
verdure  disappeared ;  around  them  were  masses  of 
dark,  unsunned  rock,  rising  from  rifts  of  snow ;  to  the 
right  and  left  snowy  peaks  clustered  ;  and  right  beneath 
them,  in  inky  blackness,  lay  a  small  mountain-tarn, 
the  Todtensee,  once  choked  with  the  bodies  of  the 
dead,  when  French  and  Austrian  fought  amid  the 
snows  for  the  command  of  the  pass.  Still  further  on 
a  dreary  basin  in  the  hills  inclosed  the  Hospice  of  the 
Grimsel,  at  the  point  where  one  or  two  glacier-streams 
enter  a  small,  rock-bound  lake,  and  the  Aar,  from  this 
dismal  source,  foams  through  its  narrow  bed  between 
overhanging  mountains,  for  nearly  thirty  miles,  to  the 
Lake  of  Brienz.  This  is  the  Haslithal,  in  its  upper 


THE  FALLS   OF  THE  HANDECK.  83 

portion  one  of  the  wildest,  and  in  its  lower,  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  Alpine  valleys.  Down  this  valley 
their  day's  journey  lay  before  them.  They  reached  the 
hospice  about  ten  o'clock,  and  from  thence  sent  back 
one  of  the  guides  with  four  of  their  horses,  retaining  a 
single  horse  and  guide  to  carry  the  luggage  and  the 
wraps,  of  which  they  now  divested  themselves  in  antici- 
pation of  a  long  walk. 

As  they  passed  through  a  gateway  of  rock  a  little 
below  the  hospice,  Robert  pointed  out  that  it  had  once 
been  continuous  across  the  narrow  valley,  and,  like  a 
great  dam,  had  made  a  mountain  lake  of  the  entire 
basin  in  which  the  hospice  stands.  One  after  another 
such  exhausted  lake-basins  were  traversed,  each  some- 
what ampler  than  the  preceding.  High  on  the  rocky 
walls  were  the  furrows  of  glaciers,  and  the  ripple-marks 
where  the  waves  of  centuries  had  fretted  the  rocks. 
Some  of  the  lake-beds  were  paved  with  gray  gravel, 
close  packed  and  destitute  of  verdure ;  some  were 
covered  with  scanty  green ;  but  through  them  all  the 
rushing  stream  ploughed  its  headlong  course.  As  they 
continued  to  descend,  the  heath  gave  way  to  shrubs,  the 
shrubs  to  bushes,  and  the  bushes  to  thickets  of  alder 
and  birch. 

About  half-past  two  o'clock,  after  an  easy  descending 
walk  of  eight  miles,  they  arrived  at  the  Chalet  of  Han- 
deck,  where  the  Aar,  now  become  a  small  river,  makes 
a  plunge  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  falling  into  a 
basin  of  jagged  rocks  below.  Beneath  the  pine-trees 
which  overhung  the  chalet,  they  took  their  noon-day 


84  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

rest ;  and  Helen  began  a  sketch  of  the  valley,  including 
the  mountain  wall  of  the  opposite  side,  and  the  cascades 
of  Aerlen  and  Gelmer,  which  flow  from  the  glaciers 
above,  leaping  in  silver  threads  or  clouds  of  spray  from 
shelf  to  shelf,  to  join  the  larger  river  before  it  makes  its 
fearful  plunge.  In  the  middle  ground  was  the  gate  of 
rock,  from  which  the  compressed  waters  rush  to  spring 
in  an  unbroken  sheet  into  the  cauldron  below,  and  the 
remains  of  a  mist-enveloped  and  rainbow-spanned  foot- 
bridge which  crosses  the  outlet  of  the  basin.  She  drew 
with  great  freedom  and  force,  and  Robert,  who  watched 
each  stroke,  when  it  was  done  wrote  beneath  a  verse  of 
Mignon's  song :  — 

"  Knowst  thou  the  hill,  the  bridge  that  hangs  on  cloud  ? 
The  mules  in  mist  grope  o'er  the  torrent  loud, 
In  caves  lie  coiled  the  dragon's  ancient  brood, 
The  crag  leaps  down,  and  over  it  the  flood." 

"  Now  we  must  be  getting  on,"  he  said  ;  and  he  moved 
away  in  search  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  whose  voices 
were  audible  a  little  way  up  the  stream,  while  Helen 
went  forward  alone,  meaning  to  stop  a  few  moments  at 
the  bridge  below. 

It  was  rather  a  wreck  than  a  bridge,  she  found,  for  a 
late  flood  had  carried  away  all  the  string-pieces  but  one, 
to  which  a  light  hand-rail  was  attached.  She  hesitated 
a  moment ;  but  the  timber  seemed  broad  enough  for  a 
firm  foothold,  and  the  rail  stanch,  so  she  ventured  to 
walk  a  few  feet  out,  in  order  to  get  a  fair  view  of  the 
falling  waters.  Meantime  Robert  joined  the  rest  of  the 
party,  who  had  found  upon  the  hillside  a  log,  perhaps 


THE  FALLS   OF  THE  HANDECK.  85 

ten  or  twelve  feet  long,  from  which  the  branches  had 
been  trimmed,  and  they  were  now  rolling  it  down,  to 
launch  it  on  the  stream  below,  and  see  its  leap  over  the 
cataract.  They  promised  to  follow  so  soon  as  this 
should  be  done,  and  he  hastened  to  rejoin  Helen.  When 
he  reached  the  chalet  she  was  not  there.  Looking  down 
the  path,  he  saw  her  standing  on  the  frail  bridge  in  a 
cloud  of  spray.  With  one  flash  of  thought  he  realized 
that  the  log  must  be  already  afloat,  and  that  in  another 
moment  it  would  be  hurled  from  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice and  might  strike  the  timber  on  which  she  stood. 
He  rushed  forward,  shouting  as  he  ran ;  but  the  roar 
of  the  falling  water  drowned  his  voice,  so  that  Helen 
did  not  catch  the  words.  He  reached  the  table  of  rock 
above  the  end  of  the  beam  and  called  to  her,  "  Come 
back  !  Be  quick  !  "  She  looked  up  in  surprise,  —  he  saw 
her  start ;  for  one  bewildered  instant  she  stood  hesitat- 
ing, and  in  that  instant  the  end  of  the  log  came  into 
view,  shooting  far  beyond  the  falling  water.  Robert 
dropped  upon  his  knees,  and  called  frantically,  "  Spring ! 
Quick  !  " 

It  was  too  late ;  the  log,  swifter  than  she,  shot  in 
a  long  curve  into  the  gulf.  It  struck  on  end,  whirled 
over,  and  fell  heavily  across  the  bridge-timber.  Helen 
saw  it  coming,  and  knew  that  it  was  doom.  But  one 
yard  divided  her  from  Robert's  outstretched  arms.  She 
sprang  into  them ;  and  even  as  his  hands  tightened 
round  her  wrists,  the  plank  beneath  her  feet  swept  into 
the  seething  pool  below,  and  she  swung  in  air,  held 
by  Robert  as  he  lay  prone  on  the  rock,  his  arms  reach- 


86  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

ing  over  the  brink.  Fortunately  the  guide  had  heard 
his  call,  and  now  came  running  to  the  spot.  He  grasped 
her  upraised  arms,  and  supported  her  until  Robert  could 
rise,  when  the  two  lifted  her  up  to  the  table  of  rock 
beneath  which  the  timber  had  rested. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  exclaimed  Robert,  as  they  sank  upon 
the  ground.  "  You  are  not  hurt,  Helen  ?  "  seeing  that 
she  was  very  pale. 

"  I  think  not,  thank  you,  —  but  oh,  what  an  escape  ! 
I  owe  my  life  to  you !  "  And  she  looked  with  all  the 
light  of  her  deep  brown  eyes  into  his. 

"  Do  you,  dear  ?  "  said  Robert,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  said ;  and  he  stroked  back  her  falling  hair  with  both 
his  hands. 

She  rose  to  brush  the  yellow  sand  from  her  dress, 
and  with  the  motion  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  my  arm  !  "  It 
hung  helpless,  —  she  could  not  bring  it  to  her  side  ;  and, 
faint  with  pain,  she  sank  into  her  seat  again. 

The  rest  of  the  party  now  came  running  up,  and 
Alice  cried,  "  What  is  it  ?  Oh,  what  is  it  ?  What  has 
happened  ?  Tell  me !  " 

Helen  smiled  as  she  glanced  from  Alice  to  Robert, 
and  said,  "  Mr.  Audran  has  saved  my  life  —  and  broken 
my  arm." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  said  Alice,  "  what  did  you  do  that 
for,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  Supposing  we  find  out  first  what  are  the  facts  in 
this  case,"  said  Robert ;  and,  placing  one  hand  care- 
fully under  Helen's  left  elbow,  he  passed  the  fingers  of 
the  other  upward  to  her  shoulder.  Just  below  the  point 


THE  FALLS   OF   THE  HANDECK.  8/ 

of  the  shoulder  he  found  a  marked  depression,  and  be- 
neath the  collar-bone  in  front  a  rounded  swelling. 

"  Miss  Dysart's  arm  is  not  broken,"  said  he,  "  but 
her  shoulder  is  out  of  joint." 

"  Oh,  but  that  is  dreadful !  "  said  Alice.  "  What  can 
we  do  ?  " 

"We  shall  do  very  well,  I  dare  say,"  said  Helen 
cheerily. 

Robert  hesitated  and  looked  perplexed  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  said,  "  Miss  Dysart,  there  is  no  surgical  aid 
nearer  than  Meiringen,  ten  or  twelve  miles  away. 
With  every  hour  of  delay  your  arm  will  become  more 
swollen,  and  reducing  the  dislocation  a  more  painful 
and  difficult  business.  I  think  I  know  enough  to  set 
and  dress  it ;  and  if  so,  the  consequences  of  this  acci- 
dent will  not  be  at  all  serious.  I  have  often  been  the 
rounds  with  surgeons  in  hospital ;  and  out  on  the  plains 
I  have  had  to  take  care  of  myself,  my  men,  and  my 
neighbors." 

"  Do  try,  then,"  said  Helen ;  "  and  tell  me  what  I  am 
to  do." 

"  First,  then,  let  Miss  Alice  get  your  dress  off  from 
this  arm  and  shoulder  " ;  and,  giving  his  knife  to  Alice, 
he  added,  "  You  will  best  know  which  seams  to  cut,  so 
as  to  leave  the  whole  arm  and  shoulder  uncovered.  I 
will  do  everything  else."  From  his  bag  he  brought 
a  case  which  for  years  had  been  part  of  his  travelling 
outfit,  and  with  it  a  girth,  taken  from  the  saddle  of  the 
horse.  "  I  must  give  you  chloroform,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Helen ;  "  I  can  bear  any  necessary 
pain." 


88  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  It  is  not  merely  to  save  you  pain  ;  it  is  to  relax  all 
the  muscles,  and  make  the  operation  and  the  injury  as 
slight  as  may  be." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Helen.  "  Am  I  to  sit  up  ?  " 
"  No,"  said  Robert ;  "  we  will  make  a  couch  for  you." 
He  laid  some  folded  shawls  on  the  grass,  rolled 
another  for  a  pillow,  and  with  a  third  covered  her 
limbs.  Alice  was  bidden  to  hold  her  hands.  Robert 
placed  his  handkerchief,  wet  with  chloroform,  in  his  hat, 
slowly  brought  it  near  her  nostrils,  and  bade  her  breathe 
full  and  long,  without  fear.  She  passed  quietly  under 
the  influence,  Robert  counting  her  pulse  and  respira- 
tions the  while.  When  she  approached  unconscious- 
ness he  lifted  the  unhurt  arm  and  let  it  fall :  it  dropped 
heavily  by  her  side.  Then  he  gave  the  chloroform  to 
Walter,  bidding  him  be  careful  not  to  cover  her  face 
with  it;  turned  back  the  ripped  dress,  and  uncovered 
her  neck  and  shoulder,  round  and  firm  and  fair  as  ivory ; 
stretched  out  her  arm  at  right  angles  to  her  body,  bade 
the  guide  draw  it  outward  and  upward  while  he  grasped 
the  head  of  the  bone,  which  lay  like  a  round  ball  among 
the  muscles  of  the  chest ;  and  then,  with  an  oscillating 
movement,  forced  it  down  into  the  hollow  of  the  armpit. 
Next  he  bade  Walter,  after  giving  her  a  little  more  chlo- 
roform, to  pass  the  saddle-girth  in  a  loop  under  the 
armpit,  and  draw  steadily  outward  and  upward,  while 
he  took  the  arm  from  the  guide,  grasping  it  firmly  above 
the  elbow,  and,  rolling  it  slowly  in  his  hands,  brought  it 
down  against  her  side.  The  loop  in  Walter's  hands 
yielded  suddenly,  and  the  head  of  the  bone  slipped  into 


THE  FALLS  OF  THE  HANDECK.  89 

its  socket  without  any  force.  The  arm  could  now  be 
moved  in  any  direction,  and  the  depression  beneath  the 
shoulder  had  disappeared. 

Alice,  who  had  watched  with  contracted  brow  every 
step  of  this  mysterious  process,  saw  the  look  of  care 
dissolve  in  Robert's  face,  and  heard  the  long-drawn 
breath  of  relief  which  marked  the  success  of  the  opera- 
tion. She  bent  and  kissed  Helen  again  and  again,  then 
she  pulled  Robert  down  and  kissed  him  also,  and  then 
she  buried  her  face  in  the  folds  of  Helen's  dress  and 
began  to  cry.  The  boys  were  ready  to  dance  with  de- 
light, only  Robert  was  calm.  He  pinned  the  cut  dress 
together,  and  seeing  Helen's  collar-stud  on  the  ground 
beside  her,  quietly  put  it  in  his  own  pocket.  Then  he 
called,  "  Come,  Miss  Alice,  get  your  needle  and  thread, 
and  run  up  this  sleeve." 

Alice  obeyed,  and  had  nearly  finished  when  Helen 
opened  her  eyes  and  slowly  said,  "  Is  it  all  done  ? " 

"  All  done,"  said  Robert ;  and  he  sent  the  guide 
for  a  cup  of  water. 

"  Did  you  feel  all  that  dreadful  pulling  and  pushing  ?  " 
said  Alice. 

"Not  a  bit,  dear,"  said  Helen. 

"  Very  well,  then,  Mr.  Audran  is  a  great  surgeon,  that 
is  all  I  have  to  say ;  and  I  have  kissed  him  for  it,  and 
I  think  you  should  do  so  too." 

Helen  looked  in  a  dreamy,  bewildered  way  from  one 
to  the  other.  "  Not  —  without  —  leave,  do  you  think  ?  " 
she  said,  with  a  little  gleam  of  fun. 

Robert  bowed  his  head,  she  lifted  hers  and  softly 
kissed  his  cheek. 


90  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  That 's  right,  —  a  very  nice  little  fee,"  said  Alice 
complacently.  "  Can  you  sit  up  ?  " 

Helen  raised  herself,  and  Robert  with  a  long  scarf 
so  confined  and  supported  her  arm  and  shoulder  as  to 
secure  perfect  rest  and  ease. 

"  What  next  ?  "  said  Alice.  "  How  are  we  to  get  out 
of  this?" 

"  She  will  look  very  different  in  half  an  hour,"  said 
Robert,  "  and  we  shall  get  to  Imhof  or  Meiringen  quite 
comfortably." 

"  I  feel  as  though  I  could  walk  now,"  said  Helen. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  walking,"  said  Robert.  "  Last 
night  I  telegraphed  from  the  Rhone  glacier  to  have  two 
saddle-horses  and  a  chair  sent  up  from  Meiringen  to 
meet  us.  They  were  to  leave  at  eleven,  so  they  cannot 
be  far  away  now.  Does  your  shoulder  pain  you,  Miss 
Dysart  ?  " 

"  Very  little,"  replied  Helen  ;  "  but  my  head  swims  a 
good  deal  after  the  chloroform.  I  hope  I  have  not  said 
or  done  anything  very  bad  ;  have  I,  Alice  ? " 

"Everything  that  you  should,  and  nothing  that  you 
should  n't,  as  usual.  Eh,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  All  that  I  can  say  about  it,"  said  Robert,  "  is  that 
Miss  Dysart  has  done  just  as  I  believed  she  would  in 
any  great  danger  or  emergency.  If  she  had  been  hys- 
terical or  fantastic  in  any  way,  she  would  not  be  sitting 
here,  safe  and  happy ;  and  what  would  then  have  be- 
come of  us  ?  Miss  Alice,  I  do  not  think  that  even  now 
you  know  what  has  happened  "  ;  and  he  told  her  of  that 
"  vision  of  sudden  death,"  and  the  one  hazardous  mo- 
ment on  which  all  had  depended. 


THE  FALLS   OF  THE  HANDECK.  9! 

"  And  she  hung  by  her  arms  over  that  awful  gulf !  " 
said  Alice.  "  How  horrible !  What  did  you  think 
about,  Helen  ? " 

"  Nothing.  I  saw  only  Mr.  Audran's  terrified  face,  and 
the  dark  pines  above.  I  heard  the  waters  dash,  I  felt 
a  gripe  like  iron  on  my  arms,  but  I  thought  of  nothing 
until  they  were  just  drawing  me  in  over  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  and  then  I  knew  that  I  was  not  to  die,  and  you 
were  not  to  suffer.  Oh !  how  are  we  to  thank  you 
enough,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"That  is  one  of  the  things  that  no  fellow  can  find 
out,  as  Dundreary  remarks,"  said  Eugene.  "I  can  only 
say  he  has  earned  the  everlasting  gratitude  of  our  family, 
and  that  I  don't  know  anybody  else  in  the  world  who 
would  have  been  capable  of  doing  what  he  has  done." 

"  Go  away,  please,  all  of  you,"  said  Helen  in  a  broken 
voice.  "  Leave  Alice  with  me.  I  am  dizzy,  and  per- 
haps could  sleep  a  little." 

"Go  down  the  road,  boys,"  said  Robert,  "until  you 
meet  the  horses,  and  hurry  them  up.  I  will  stay  near 
the  ladies,  and  the  guide  will  stay  with  us." 

By  and  by  Alice  saw  him  quite  a  distance  down  the 
hill,  cutting  green  twigs  by  the  handful. 

"  Let  me  get  up,"  said  Helen,  "  and  see  what  is  left 
of  me.  Is  my  dress  torn  to  pieces  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  wrong,"  said  Alice.  "  Two 
buttons  gone  from  your  waist,  and  a  little  dust  on  the 
front  of  your  skirt,  —  that  is  all.  Everything  else  is  per- 
fectly in  order,  but,  O  Nelly,  what  a  fright  we  have  had ! 
As  Eugene  says,  is  there  anybody  else  in  the  world  but 


92  MANUELA  PARADES. 

Mr.  Audran  who  would  have  brought  us  out  of  this 
scrape  so  wonderfully  ?  If  you  don't  make  it  all  right 
with  him  I  shall  have  a  very  poor  opinion  of  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Helen  sharply. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  dauntless  Alice,  ''that  chance  and 
circumstances  have  brought  you  so  close  together  that 
you  ought  alwajs  to  belong  to  each  other.  There  never 
was  a  man  who  suited  you  so  well,  there  never  will  be  a 
woman  who  could  satisfy  him  so  perfectly." 

"  Pray,  let  him  find  it  out  for  himself,  then,"  said 
Helen.  "  Don't  keep  forcing  us  on  each  other.  It  is 
you  who  will  drive  him  away,  you  foolish  girl." 

"  He  adores  you,  Helen." 

"  Very  well,  let  him  say  so  then,  when  and  where  he 
pleases.  I  know  he  likes  me,  and  I  know  I  like  him, 
but  there  are  a  thousand  things  to  be  thought  of  besides 
liking.  I  don't  intend  that  he  shall  be  sacrificed  to 
his  kindness  in  taking  care  of  us,  whatever  becomes  of 
me  "  ;  and  she  gave  a  little  shiver. 

"  Well,"  said  Alice,  "  all  I  can  say  is  that  it  will  be 
an  everlasting  pity  if  you  two  don't  find  out  that  you 
were  made  for  each  other." 

"  Come,  dust  me  and  make  me  fit  to  be  seen," 
cried  Helen  impatiently.  "  Am  I  all  right  now  ?  Let 's 
walk  down  to  meet  him." 

Alice  adjusted  her  hair  and  hat,  and  brushed  down 
her  dress  with  a  few  quick  strokes,  and  they  started  off. 
Helen  walked  with  a  strong,  firm  step,  and  but  for  her 
bandaged  arm  and  pale  cheeks  no  one  would  have 
guessed  that  anything  had  befallen  her. 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  93 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    RISING    TIDE. 

A  S  the  ladies  drew  near  the  thicket  where  Robert 
•*••*•  was  still  cutting  boughs,  Helen  called,  in  her 
clear,  fresh  voice,  "  Come,  sir !  We  can't  afford  to 
leave  you  behind." 

"Oh!  there  you  are,  sure  enough,"  said  he,  coming 
out,  with  a  fagot  of  green  twigs  in  his  hands.  "You 
look,  I  think,  even  better  for  your  moment  of  sus- 
pense." 

"  Yes,"  said  she  ;  "  those  who  are  born  to  be  hanged 
won't  be  drowned,  you  know ;  and  will  you  please  tell 
me  what  all  those  twigs  are  for  ?  " 

"  They  are  for  you,"  said  Robert,  —  "  something  good 
for  bruises.  We  will  have  a  decoction  made  to-night, 
at  Meiringen,  and  put  it  on  your  shoulder." 

"  What  am  I  to  expect  about  my  arm  ? "  said  Helen. 

"  It  will  be  swollen  and  tender  to-morrow,  but  less  so 
with  each  day,  I  hope,"  said  Robert.  "  Perhaps  you  will 
feel  it  a  week  hence,  perhaps  not ;  and  it  may  be  that, 
as  vou  grow  old,  it  will  occasionally  remind  you  of  the 
Falls  of  the  Handeck." 

"  You  complimented  my  memory  this  morning,  Mr. 
Audran,  and  I  don't  think  it  is  so  shallow  that  I  shall 


94  MANUELA   PARADES. 

need  a  twinge  in  the  shoulder  to  remind  me  of  one  of 
the  great  events  of  my  life.  It  might  have  been,  a  few 
hours  ago,  that  all  this  idyl  of  the  Alps  should  dissolve 
and  be  only  a  memory ;  but  now,  wherever  you  go  and 
wherever  I  live,  you  must  come  to  us  whenever  you  can, 
and  you  must  not  cheat  me  of  the  chance  to  render  you 
any  service  which  may  be  in  my  power." 

"  It  will  give  me  pleasure,  also,  to  meet  Mr.  Audran, 
—  on  all  proper  occasions,"  lisped  Alice. 

"Well,  I  hope,"  said  Robert,  "that  this  awkward 
accident  won't  end  our  excursions.  I  had  thought  of 
so  many  more  which  perhaps  we  might  make  together. 
If  it  were  not  that  your  mother  is  expecting  you  at 
Interlaken,  I  should  propose  to  go  from  Meiringen,  by 
the  Rosenlaui  Glacier  and  Scheideck,  over  to  Grindel- 
wald ;  and  the  next  day  up  the  Grindelwald  Glacier  ; 
and  the  third  day  over  the  Wengern  Alp  to  Lauter- 
brunnen  ;  and  the  fourth  day  to  Murren  and  the  Schma- 
dribach,  —  and  so  to  Interlaken.  That  would  be,  for 
ladies,  doing  the  Bernese  Alps  pretty  thoroughly.  In- 
stead of  which  you  will  now  have  to  stay  some  days  at 
Interlaken." 

"  We  must  go  to  mamma,  certainly,"  said  Helen  ; 
"  but,  Mr.  Audran,  could  I  make  any  part  of  that  trip  in 
a  chair,  if  I  were  not  up  to  walking  ?  " 

"  You  perceive  that  chairs  are  not  to  be  despised,  in 
an  emergency.  I  hope  you  may;  but  you. should  consult 
a  surgeon  when  we  get  to  Interlaken,  and  he  will  decide." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  any  surgeon  could  have  done 
more  than  you  did,  Mr.  Audran,"  said  Alice. 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  95 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  said  he.  "  I  am  very  proud  of 
my  exploit,  and,  now  that  I  have  succeeded,  am  glad 
that  I  did  not  hesitate  to  attempt  it.  I  did  hesitate  ; 
but  I  could  not  bear  to  think  that  you  must  go  twenty- 
four  hours  without  assistance,  and  that  your  arm  should 
become  inflamed  and  the  reduction  painful  and  un- 
certain as  it  always  is  when  delayed.  I  would  not 
have  touched  it  had  I  thought  I  should  make  it  worse 
by  the  attempt,  in  case  I  did  not  succeed.  As  it  was,  I 
suppose  a  surgeon  would  say  that  it  was  one  of  the 
easiest  dislocations  to  reduce.  I  have  seen  it  done  sev- 
eral times,  and  once  before  succeeded  in  it  myself.  Last 
year  one  of  my  herders  was  thrown  from  his  horse,  and 
struck  on  the  point  of  his  shoulder.  He  was  a  poltroon, 
and  made  me  lots  of  trouble,  so  of  course  it  was  neither 
so  quickly  nor  so  well  over  as  now.  Hark !  Did  n't 
you  hear  the  boys  calling  ?  Yes,  they  have  met  the 
horses.  Won't  you  sit  down  and  wait  for  them  ?  We 
shall  get  through  in  fair  season,  I  think." 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Helen,  "  but  it  does  not  hurt 
me  to  walk." 

In  a  few  moments  the  horses  appeared.  Helen  was 
placed  in  the  chair,  Alice  mounted  one  horse  and  Eu- 
gene the  other,  and  the  party  fared  briskly  forward 
through  the  pine  groves  and  the  willows  which  were 
scattered  along  the  downward  route.  Thus  they  passed 
through  the  meadows  of  Guttanen,  bright  with  the  pink 
and  yellow  blossoms  of  the  meadow  saffron  crouching 
beneath  spreading  umbels  of  rue,  and  climbed  the 
rocky  barrier  which  was  once  a  dike  and  made  a  lake 


96  MANUELA   PARADES. 

of  that  peaceful  valley.  They  had  ridden  two  hours 
when  Eugene  insisted  on  dismounting  and  giving  his 
horse  to  Robert ;  and  Helen  proposed  that  Alice  should 
try  the  chair  awhile  and  let  her  ride.  The  sun  went 
down  red  in  the  west,  and  the  stars,  one  by  one,  stole 
out,  as  they  steadily  pressed  on  through  meadow  and 
grove,  the  dashing  Aar  always  at  their  feet,  and  the 
road  smooth  enough,  but  always  descending. 

They  had  ridden  for  a  long  time  without  words,  when 
Helen  said,  "  Why  are  you  so  silent,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  he,  "  what  an  unspeakable 
sorrow  and  pain  would  have  been  mine  if  I  were  trav- 
elling this  dark  road,  carrying  you  home  to  your  mother, 
dead.  I  suppose  I  should  have  survived  it,  but  it 
would  have  been  a  shadow  on  my  life  which  man  or 
woman  or  lime  would  never  have  lifted.  What  a  dread- 
ful ending  to  all  the  charm  which,  since  that  first  meet- 
ing on  the  Rigi,  you  have  thrown  over  my  life !  You 
don't  know,  Helen, — you  whose  life  is  passed  in  the 
inspiration  and  confidence  of  friendship  and  love,  — 
what  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  my  solitary  existence  this 
face-to-face  and  hand-to-hand  companionship  with  such 
a  woman  as  you  are  has  been." 

"  Why  are  you  so  solitary,  Mr.  Audran  ?  Why  should 
one  who  might  contribute  so  much  to  society  withdraw 
himself  from  it  ?  There  are  many  women  like  myself, 
many  better  far  than  I,  who  wait,  wait  wearily,  for  the 
coming  of  such  men  as  you  into  their  social  world." 

"  I  but  submit  to  the  inevitable.  At  thirty,  when 
Friedrich  and  Simon  in  Heidelberg  told  me  that  the 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  97 

bar,  the  library,  and  even  the  life  of  towns  and  men, 
were  not  for  me,  —  that  I  must  live,  if  I  would  live  at 
all,  in  the  open  air  and  in  comparative  seclusion  (it 
seems  now  that  it  was  a  needless  sacrifice,  but  then  I 
felt  it  to  be  imperative),  I  determined  to  seek  my  for- 
tune where  I  might  have  part  in  the  building  up  of  a 
State,  and  where  any  desultory  powers  and  knowledge 
which  I  possessed  might  turn  in  some  way  to  the  service 
of  a  people  who  certainly  need  among  them  a  leaven  of 
other  life  than  such  as  now  grows  naturally  out  of  their 
soil.  If  my  fortunes  ever  give  me  liberty  to  do  so,  I 
may  yet  turn  life  to  some  good  account.  But  I  know 
what  I  have  missed ;  and  when  a  pleasure  such  as  this 
slides  into  my  lonely  way,  it  has  a  wonderful  sweet- 
ness both  in  its  passing  and  in  its  memory.  Does  it 
offend  you  that  I  speak  as  I  feel  ?  Will  you  let  me 
talk  thus  to  you,  Helen  ? " 

She  smiled.  "  I  have  no  choice.  We  are  alone : 
what  you  say,  I  must  hear." 

"  Does  it  not  please  you  to  hear,  Helen  ?  " 

"Yes,  it  does.  Though  'but  a  shadow,  but  a  sliding,' 
I  prize  this  glimpse  into  your  inner  life.  I  see  so  much 
to  admire,  and  hour  after  hour  you  place  me  so  deeply 
in  your  debt,  that  I  shall  have  to  do  one  of  two  things : 
I  must  withdraw  from  your  company,  or  I  must  think  as 
you  think  and  say  as  you  say." 

"  O  Helen,  you  are  so  sure  of  yourself  that  you  can 
speak  as  few  women  can,  as  none  ever  did,  to  me." 

"  I  ought  to  understand  myself.  I  am  almost  thirty. 
I  have  had  the  best  and  happiest  home  you  can  imagine. 

7 


98  MANUELA   PARADES. 

The  authority  of  my  parents  was  never  anything  more 
than  the  weight  of  their  better  reason,  the  obligations 
laid  upon  me  only  enough  to  teach  me  the  sense  of 
responsibility ;  and  all  my  privileges  and  opportunities 
were  measured,  not  by  my  deserts,  but  by  their  kindness. 
I  have  never  had  anything  to  fear  but  the  loss  of  my 
own  self-respect  and  the  confidence  of  my  friends ;  and 
now  it  seems  to  me  as  though  I  were  making  a  very 
prominent  addition  to  that  number.  You  are  —  I  see 
it  —  to  be  a  power,  an  influence,  with  me  for  I  do  not 
know  how  long.  Does  it  please  you  to  be  numbered 
with  those  who  are  a  light  to  my  feet  and  a  lamp  to  my 
path  ? " 

"It  does  please  me,"  said  Robert  solemnly;  "and 
God  grant  I  may  never  mislead  those  gentle  feet !  There 
are  the  lights  of  Imhof  yonder.  I  had  thought  we 
would  stop  there,  but  we  will  go  on  to  Meiringen  if  you 
like." 

"  I  will  do  just  as  you  say,"  answered  Helen,  "  but  if 
you  leave  it  to  me,  we  will  stop  at  Imhof.  First 
thoughts  are  best." 

"  Imhof  it  shall  be,  then,"  said  he  ;  and  he  wondered 
if  Helen  had  any  idea  whither  his  first  thoughts  would 
have  led  him  all  that  day. 

Before  she  was  ready  for  sleep  a  servant  brought  to 
her  room  a  pitcher  of  warm,  dark  fluid,  and  this  line  :  — 

"  It  does  not  smell  nice,  but  if  you  will  dip  a  napkin 
in  it  and  swathe  your  shoulder  for  the  night,  it  may  save 
you  some  soreness  in  the  morning. 

"IL  A." 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  99 

While  her  children  were  passing  this  eventful  day, 
Mrs.  Dysart  was  alone  in  her  chamber  at  Interlaken. 
Not  until  morning  began  to  grow  gray  had  she  been  able 
to  sleep,  and  when  sleep  came  at  length,  it  continued 
far  into  the  day.  It  was  eleven  o'clock  before  she  rang 
for  her  breakfast,  and,  when  that  was  ended,  she  seated 
herself  to  write  to  her  husband  and  daughter  the  history 
which  the  previous  evening  had  revealed.  It  was  no 
easy  task  to  give  a  sketch  of  the  baroness  and  her 
methods  and  intentions,  and  after  an  hour  spent  in 
the  attempt  she  had  nearly  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  would  be  better  not  to  write  until  she  could  speak 
from  fuller  knowledge  of  both. 

The  baroness,  meantime,  had  been  haunting  the  public 
portions  of  the  hotel,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Mrs. 
Dysart,  and  by  two  o'clock  the  mutual  impatience  of 
these  ladies  had  become  intolerable.  The  baroness, 
feeling  that  hers  was  the  aggressive  rdle,  again  assumed 
the  initiative,  and  sought  Mrs.  Dysart  in  her  room.  She 
was  readily  admitted,  and,  as  Mrs.  Dysart  advanced  to 
meet  her,  each  saw  in  the  other's  face  the  record  of 
anxiety  and  suspense. 

The  baroness  began.  "  I  have  been  much  in  doubt 
whether  I  ought,  so  soon  again,  to  intrude  upon  you. 
Had  I  seen  you  among  your  friends,  or  starting  for  some 
excursion,  I  should  have  thought  it  but  proper  to  wait 
a  suggestion  of  your  pleasure  for  further  conversation ; 
but  as  I  knew  —  for  I  took  care  to  know —  that  you  had 
not  left  your  room  since  I  left  you  in  it,  it  seemed  that 
I  might,  and  perhaps  I  should,  come  and  ask  for  you. 


100  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

Do  not  let  me  interrupt  you  or  detain  you.  Only  let 
me  see  you,  know  that  I  did  not  overtax  your  strength 
or  your  patience,  and  I  will  wait  until  you  indicate  the 
time  for  further  conversation." 

"You  are  very  considerate,  madame,"  replied  Mrs. 
Dysart.  "  It  is  certain  that  you  have  already  disturbed 
my  bodily  rest,  but  not  so  much  as  you  have  my  mind. 
That,  however,  was  inevitable,  and  I  believe  that  we 
cannot  now  retreat  from  each  other.  I  am  therefore 
glad  to  see  you,  and  hope  you  will  stay.  There  can  be 
no  better  time  for  us  to  speak  and  hear.  To-morrow 
my  children  will,  I  hope,  return.  To-day  I  should  like 
to  understand  better  what  I  must  tell  them,  if,  indeed, 
it  be  yet  time  to  tell  them  anything." 

"Yes,  madame,"  answered  the  baroness,  "to-day  we 
have  to  ourselves.  I  also  would  know  from  you  how  I 
am  to  meet  the  child  of  my  blood  and  your  nurture. 
Do  not  think  that  I  should  ever  wish  her  to  forget  what 
she  owes  to  you.  Though  I  may  gain  a  place  in  her 
heart,  her  memories  belong  to  you.  For  nearly  thirty 
years  you  have  grown  into  her  love.  I  could  not  if  I 
would,  I  would  not  if  I  could,  disturb  it.  May  I  ask  if 
Helen  has  always  believed  that  you  are  her  own  mother, 
always  and  fully  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "fully  and  always,  —  until 
very  recently,  at  least,  no  doubt  upon  her  relation  to  me 
has  entered  her  mind.  Within  a  year  she  may  have 
begun  to  suspect  that  there  is  something  which  she  does 
not  fully  understand.  Both  Mr.  Dysart  and  myself  have 
tried  to  prevent  any  distinction  between  her  and  the 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  IOI 

other  children  ;  and  to  this  day,  if  Helen  has  any  idea 
of  such,  it  has  not  been  mentioned  between  us.  When 
we  came  abroad  Mr.  Dysart  accompanied  us  as  far  as 
London,  and  returned  after  a  week's  stay  there.  One 
day  we  met  a  gentleman  who  had  known  him  many 
years  before,  and  in  our  presence  he  asked  for  Madame 
Manuela.  Mr.  Dysart  evaded  an  answer.  There  was 
a  sense  of  confusion  which  must  have  struck  Helen,  but 
she  never  asked  an  explanation  from  us." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  tell  her  when  she  returns  ? " 
asked  the  baroness. 

"  That  will  depend  upon  my  understanding  of  your 
own  intentions.  If  these  are  to  pursue  what  you  call, 
and  probably  feel  to  be,  your  claim  upon  her,  you  are 
sure  in  some  way  very  soon  to  convey  your  purpose  to 
her.  To  prevent  this  would  be  impossible  on  my  part ; 
and  in  that  case  it  would  certainly  be  better  for  me  to 
make  the  communication  myself,  and  without  the  delay 
which  would  be  your  opportunity.  Yes,  I  think  I  shall 
tell  her." 

"  And  I  think  you  are  right,  madame.  You  may  be 
sure  that  I  should  not  have  uncovered  my  life  to  your 
eyes  without  a  well-formed  purpose,  from  which  I  could 
hardly  be  put  aside.  You  speak  of  methods  of  dealing 
with  me,  as  if  I  were  only  the  enemy  of  your  house  and 
yourself.  I  hope  that  feeling  will  pass.  For  myself,  I 
see  no  occasion  for  it,  no  truth  in  it.  I  hope  to  be  use- 
ful to  all  of  you,  hurtful  to  none.  So  long  as  the  Baron 
Waldeyer  lived,  there  was  a  barrier  between  us.  But  — 
true  man  and  tender  heart  that  he  was !  —  he  always 


102  MANUELA   PARADES. 

said  to  me  that,  if  I  outlived  him,  he  hoped  I  might  be 
able  to  reclaim  my  daughter ;  and  in  his  last  illness  we 
spoke  often  of  it.  He  gave  the  half  of  his  fortune  to 
me,  and  he  said,  '  You  will  need  it  to  enlarge  the  life 
of  your  Helen,  if  you  can  attract  her  to  you.'  I  do  not 
mention  this  fact  as  an  inducement,  but  as  evidence 
only  that  I  propose  no  injustice  to  his  memory  or  his 
feelings.  And  yet,  madame,  while  I  certainly  would 
not  intimate  that  any  such  considerations  could  control 
your  opinion  or  your  actions,  still,  as  a  good  mother, 
you  cannot  object  that  the  provision  made  for  your  own 
children  should  be  increased  by  my  assuming  the  care 
of  Helen's  interests.  And  since  this  aspect  of  the  mat- 
ter is  before  us,  I  recall  the  fact  that  I  was  my  father's 
only  heir,  and  that,  when  I  left  London,  I  left  behind 
me,  in  keeping  of  Mr.  Dysart,  all  the  fortunes  which 
I  thus  inherited.  Whatever  they  may  be,  whatever  my 
present  right  in  them,  they  form  at  least  an  element  in 
the  equities  of  the  case,  and  I  count  it  my  good  for- 
tune that  it  is  so.  You  asked  me  last  night  what  my 
intentions  were.  I  cannot  answer  more  than  to  say 
that  I  wish  to  love  and  to  serve  Helen,  to  make  her 
life  bright  and  happy  if  I  may,  and  to  share  her  so- 
ciety, her  happiness,  her  cares  and  trials,  in  my  home 
or  in  hers,  as  Providence  may  appoint  and  she  permit. 
There  is  but  one  other  person  in  the  world  in  whom  I 
feel  an  interest,  —  the  present  Baron  Waldeyer.  He 
is  more  than  twenty  years  younger  than  his  brother. 
Several  children  of  their  parents,  of  intervening  age, 
died  in  infancy  or  early  life,  and  when  I  first  knew  them 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  103 

these  two  were  alone.  Adolphe  seemed  always,  to  both 
of  us,  more  like  our  child  than  brother,  and  no  son 
could  be  more  dutiful  or  considerate  than  he  has  been 
since  his  brother's  death.  And  now,  madame,  have  I 
not  sufficiently  revealed  my  thoughts  to  you  ?  If  not, 
you  must  tell  me  what  more  you  would  hear." 

"  Yes,  Madame  Waldeyer,  you  have  spoken  fully, 
plainly ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  you  are  acting 
less  upon  impulse  than  upon  a  very  deliberate  purpose, 
and  that  you  have  taken  account  of  all  the  means  of  in- 
fluence which  you  possess.  There  are  certain  points, 
however,  which  a  woman  of  your  intelligence  cannot  fail 
to  see.  One  is  that  Helen  is  her  own  mistress,  —  of 
such  an  age  that  no  parental  authority,  whatever  its 
source,  could  control  her  action  ;  and  her  mind  is  so 
clear  and  strong  that  she  is  not  likely  to  be  captivated  by 
any  sentiment  of  which  her  judgment  does  not  approve. 
Your  success  must  lie  in  your  power  over  her ;  that  we 
cannot  resist.  Until  we  know  what  that  may  be  or 
may  not  be,  it  is  not  worth  while  to  consider  what  power 
you  can  exert  over  any  one  else.  I  will  not  deny  the 
strength  of  the  arguments  which  you  place  before  me ;  but 
I  will  and  must  say  that  none  of  them  would  lead  me  to 
influence  her  reluctant  mind  toward  an  acceptance  of 
your  wishes,  even  if  it  were  in  my  power  to  do  so." 

"  It  is  as  you  say,  Madame  Dysart.  I  shall  fail  if 
Helen  does  not  turn  to  me  of  her  own  will,  sooner  or 
later ;  but  it  would  be  much  in  my  favor  if  you  would 
not  reach  any  other  conclusion  before  all  the  aspects  of 
the  matter  are  considered.  I  was  Mr.  Dysart's  legal 


104  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

wife ;  I  was  believed  to  be  dead.  Had  it  not  been  so, 
he  would  doubtless  have  obtained  a  divorce.  But  I  am 
not  dead,  and  he  has  not  been  divorced !  He  can  be  so, 
doubtless,  through  the  public  course  of  law.  It  will 
make  a  case  in  the  celebrity  of  which  all  of  us  must 
share.  Your  position  and  that  of  your  children  will  be 
defined  whenever  mine  is.  You  will  be  married  when  I 
am  divorced,  not  before  ;  and  your  children  will  still  re- 
main the  children  of  an  unwedded  woman.  If  your 
name  and  your  fortune  are  to  be  undisturbed  and  se- 
cure, if  the  lustre  of  one  of  the  great  names  of  France 
and  Spain  is  to  be  added  to  Helen's,  you  must  be  more 
than  passive  in  my  behalf ;  and  before  you  commit  your- 
self to  any  action,  you  have  to  consider  whether  Mr. 
Dysart  would  in  all  respects  and  to  all  extents  share 
your  prejudice.  These  are  perhaps  ungracious  words, 
but  I  do  not  speak  them  because  I  like  to  do  so.  I  told 
you  last  night  that  I  hoped  you  would  see  that  our 
interests  are  identical,  not  opposed ;  that  you  would  be- 
lieve that  what  I  desire  is  indeed  desirable  for  all  con> 
cerned ;  and  that  you  and  I  at  least  may  unite  in  feeling, 
and  bury  all  that  is  painful  in  the  past  or  precarious  in 
the  future  in  silence  and  oblivion."  She  ceased,  sitting 
erect  and  firm  in  her  chair,  and  looking  steadily  at  Mrs. 
Dysart,  who,  as  this  conversation  had  proceeded,  had 
thrown  herself  backward  in  her  chair  and  covered  her 
face  with  her  hands. 

In  the  long  silence  which  followed,  the  expression  of 
the  baroness's  face  changed ;  and  when,  at  length,  Mrs. 
Dysart  uncovered  her  face,  she  saw  no  more  the  look  of 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  IO5 

power  and  purpose  beneath  which  she  had  quailed,  but 
such  an  expression  of  diffidence  and  sweetness  that  she 
could  hardly  realize  this  to  be  the  same  woman  who,  a 
few  moments  before,  had  gathered  and  twisted  her  heart- 
strings with  such  prevailing  force.  But  still  the  baron- 
ess waited,  with  the  air  of  one  who  would  say,  "  I  have 
spoken  :  it  is  your  turn  now."  So  at  length  Mrs.  Dysart 
said,  "  Now,  at  least,  Madame  Waldeyer,  you  have 
spoken  fully  and  in  very  strong  words.  You  must  give 
me  time  to  review  them.  I  shall  be  prepared  to  speak 
with  you  at  nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  if  you  will 
come  to  see  me." 

"  That  is  what  I  should  wish,"  said  the  baroness.  "  If 
there  is  force  and  reason  in  the  position  which  has  been 
stated,  it  will  commend  itself  to  your  most  deliberate  judg- 
ment. I  would  that  it  might  be  so,  and  that  there  might 
never  be  occasion  to  give  one  moment's  pain  or  doubt  to 
her  who  has,  one  after  the  other,  redeemed  the  pledges 
which  I  may  have  broken,  —  built  and  adorned  again  the 
home  which  I  deserted.  Perhaps  some  day  you  will  not 
remember  any  pain  I  may  have  given  you.  If  I  might  win 
for  myself  the  same  esteem  which  I  feel  for  you,  it  would 
be  something  only  less  dear  than  my  daughter's  love. 

"  Before  I  go,  madame,  I  am  charged  by  the  Baron 
Waldeyer  to  say  that  he  will  feel  most  honored  if  he  may 
place  his  carriage  at  your  disposal  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day.  I  am  sure  you  need  the  air,  and  respite  from 
these  thoughts  that  trouble." 

In  spite  of  herself  Mrs.  Dysart  smiled  as  she  said, 
"You  may  thank  the  baron  for  his  politeness,  which 


106  MANUELA   PARADES. 

I  can  best  acknowledge  by  accepting  it.  If  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Irwin  will  go  with  me,  I  will  send  word  to  the 
office  of  the  hotel  presently." 

So  Mrs.  Dysart  had  a  two  hours'  drive  with  her 
friends  in  a  splendidly  appointed  carriage,  and  when 
she  returned,  found  upon  her  table  a  large  basket  of 
the  choicest  flowers  and  hothouse  fruits,  with  the  baron's 
compliments. 

When  Helen  appeared  the  next  morning,  she  was 
pale,  and  showed  traces  of  yesterday's  shock.  To 
Robert's  inquiry  she  answered  that  her  shoulder  was 
somewhat  swollen  and  discolored ;  the  arm  stiff,  but  not 
hot  or  painful. 

"  Did  it  keep  you  awake  ? "  said  he. 

"  I  think  not,"  she  answered  ;  "  but  the  chloroform 
seemed  to  have  excited  my  brain,  for  I  thought  of  every- 
thing for  four  hours  before  sleep  came.  The  lotion 
cooled  and  soothed  the  shoulder,  certainly." 

"  Cooled  you  all  over,  I  should  think,"  said  Alice. 
"  You  owe  more  acknowledgments  to  your  good  doctor 
than  to  turn  a  cold  shoulder  only  on  him." 

"  Well,"  said  Robert,  "  if  she  gives  me  one  cold  shoul- 
der, she  might  as  well  give  me  the  other :  it  would  be 
inconvenient  to  divide." 

They  were  early  on  the  way,  and  in  due  time  came  to 
the  lake.  The  young  people,  released  from  two  hours' 
confinement  in  the  carriage,  strolled  gayly  about  the 
steamboat.  Helen  and  Robert  seated  themselves  qui- 
etly at  the  stern. 

She  said,  speaking  with  hesitation,  "  Mr.  Audran,  with 


THE  RISING   TIDE.  IO? 

all  the  confidence  there  has  been  between  us,  I  think 
I  must  tell  you  something  which  you  certainly  don't 
know." 

His  heart  rose  in  his  mouth.  He  thought  she  was 
going  to  tell  him  that  she  was  pledged  to  another. 

She  continued,  "  There  is  some  mystery  about  me.  I 
have  never  been  able  to  fathom  it,  —  something  about 
my  birth.  Somehow  or  other  I  feel  as  if  it  were  draw- 
ing to  a  crisis.  I  have  not  been  so  long  parted  from 
mother  for  two  years,  and  as  I  come  toward  her  again 
I  am  so  nervous !  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  see  her !  I 
trust  nothing  has  happened  to  her." 

"  You  will  meet  in  half  an  hour,"  said  he ;  "  and 
then  I  must  lay  down  my  privileges,  —  the  right  to 
guide  your  ways  which  she  intrusted  to  me  three  days 
ago.  Let  me  tell  you  now  that  I  have  still  six  weeks 
at  my  command.  On  the  24th  of  August  I  sail  from 
Liverpool  for  New  York  ;  on  the  7th  of  September 
I  must  be  at  Fountain,  as  my  ranch  is  called,  — 
an  abbreviation  of  '  Fontaine-qui-bouillit,'  the  name 
which  the  old  French  trappers  gave  to  the  stream 
which  runs  through  it  down  to  the  Arkansas  River. 
Just  there  seems  to  have  been  the  dividing-line  of  pos- 
session, for  all  the  names  south  of  me  are  Spanish,  — 
Las  Animas,  Las  Vegas,  Pueblo,  Trinidad,  El-Moro; 
and  north  they  are  French,  —  Cache  La  Poudre,  Saint 
Vrain,  etc.  My  home  is  about  twelve  miles  south 
of  Colorado  Springs,  on  the  southern  slope  of  that 
great  ridge  which  slopes  down  from  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  separates  the  basins  of  the  Platte  and  the  Ar- 


108  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

kansas,  —  a  wild  and  fantastic  country.  I  will  tell  you 
sometime  what  manner  of  life  we  lead  in  it.  It  is,  I  as- 
sure you,  a  life,  of  exile.  Do  you  not  think  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  contrast  these  days  with  those  which  form 
the  dull  round  of  life  for  me  ?  Until  I  met  you  I  was 
more  than  content  in  it,  —  I  was  complacent ;  and  now 
I  ought  to  be  thankful  that  this  glimpse  of  social  life, 
with  all  its  fancies  and  sympathies  and  instincts,  has 
been  vouchsafed  to  me.  But  if  ever  I  am  to  attain  the 
fortune  and  the  position  to  which  I  have  aspired,  I  must 
turn  away  from  them,  and  give  to  my  rude  life  the  whole 
force  of  my  thought  and  the  most  constant  industry  of 
my  time.  Were  it  otherwise,  Miss  Dysart,  I  should 
seek  to  commend  myself  to  you,  —  to  gain,  if  I  might, 
something  more  than  a  few  hours  of  your  leisure, — 
something  more  than  —  " 

"  Allow  me  to  interrupt  you,  sir,"  said  Helen.  "  In- 
deed, you  do  not  show  to  advantage  at  this  moment, 
for  you  seem  to  wish  to  protect  yourself  and  me  from 
any  misconception  of  your  great  kindness  and  very  val- 
uable service,  and  to  recover  —  for  your  own  sake  or  for 
mine  —  something  of  the  distance  which  our  intimate 
life  of  the  past  few  days  has  abridged.  If  it  be  for  your 
own  sake,  I  shall  not  tell  you  how  far  I  wish  you  success ; 
if  it  be  for  mine,  I  must  not  allow  you  to  suppose  the 
effort  to  be  at  all  necessary.  Our  freedom  toward  each 
other  has  grown  naturally  out  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  we  were  placed.  It  has  given  me  a  knowledge  of 
a  nature  which  will  always,  I  am  sure,  command  my  es- 
teem ;  of  a  power  which,  whenever  and  wherever  I  may 
come  within  its  reach,  will  be  genial  and  gracious  and 


THE  RISING   TIDE. 


good.  If  I  have  left  on  you  in  any  degree  a  similar  im- 
pression, it  flatters  me  to  believe  it  ;  and  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  tell  you  that  I  owe  you  all  that  friendship  may 
give  or  ask,  —  sympathy  with  your  ambition,  jealousy  of 
your  good  name,  joy  in  your  success,  pleasure  in  your 
presence.  All  of  these,  unbidden,  you  will  have  ;  and 
you  will  have  nothing  else  which  you  do  not  ask.  Now, 
you  say  you  have  some  weeks  at  your  command,  and,  if 
I  remember  one  of  our  earlier  conversations,  you  then 
said  you  proposed  to  spend  it  in  Switzerland.  We  are 
to  be  here,  and  if  your  plans  do  not  draw  you  else- 
where, the  longer  we  may  have  something  of  your  com- 
pany, the  larger  will  be  our  pleasure  and  profit  in  it. 
Our  party  is  complete  in  itself,  and  needs  no  other  ;  but 
beyond  its  needs  are  its  privileges  :  while  you  choose 
to  add  yours  to  it,  I  do  not  believe  we  could  find  any 
addition  so  welcome.  I  speak  for  all.  You  know  how 
Alice  thinks  of  you,  and  Eugene  ;  and  I  know  how  my 
mother  will  feel,  when  she  knows  you  as  we  do.  Here 
we  are.  Now  for  mother's  history  ;  it  can  have  no 
events  like  ours." 

A  few  moments  later  a  carriage  delivered  Helen  and 
Robert  at  the  hotel,  while  the  younger  party  went  di- 
rect from  the  steamboat  to  climb  the  Kleine  Rugen. 

As  they  parted  in  the  hall  Robert  said,  "  May  I  find 
the  best  surgeon  in  the  place,  and  send  him  to  examine 
your  arm  at  half-past  one  ?  And,  .since  the  young  folks 
will  be  home  by  four,  may  we  all  meet  for  dinner  at 
the  table  d'hote  at  five  ? 

"Yes  to  both,"  said  Helen  cheerily.  "Au  revoir, 
Mr.  Audran  !  " 


no  MANUELA   PARADES. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

MOTHER   AND    DAUGHTER. 

T  TELEN  went  directly  to  her  mother's  room  on  their 
•*-  -*•  arrival  at  Interlaken,  and  was  instantly  greeted 
with,  "  What  is  the  matter  with  your  arm,  child  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  long  story,  mother.  You  shall  know  all 
about  it  directly.  It  is  all  right  now,  I  think ;  but  a 
surgeon  is  coming  presently  to  make  sure.  You  must 
help  me  to  get  ready  for  him  ;  and  please,  dear  mother, 
bring  me  some  things  from  my  room,  and  let  me  dress 
here,  while  I  tell  you  about  it." 

So  the  history  of  the  last  three  days  was  told  in  a 
very  effective  way,  and  very  much  to  Mr.  Audran's 
credit.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  man,  mother  ?  "  said 
Helen,  as  she  ended  her  tale. 

"  Evidently  you  never  did,"  replied  Mrs.  Dysart. 
"  He  must  be  a  wonderful  person  indeed,  if  he  has 
captivated  our  difficult  Helen." 

"I  do  not  deny  it,"  she  answered.  "We  have  agreed 
to  be  always  the  best  of  friends,  and  meantime  we  are 
to  say  whatever  we  like  to  each  other,  just  as  we  have 
done  for  the  last  three  days.  His  flattery  is  something 
worth  while,  mamma,  I  can  assure  you." 

"  Has  he  made  love  to  you,  Helen  ?  " 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  Ill 

"  No,  not  at  all.  He  would  not  do  such  a  thing 
under  such  circumstances  ;  but  he  has  told  me  frankly 
that  he  likes  to  be  in  my  company,  and  should  be  sorry 
to  leave  it.  Only  think,  mamma,  what  his  life  must  be 
on  those  dreary  Colorado  plains,  with  nothing  about 
him  except  Indians  and  cattle." 

"  Why  does  he  live  there,  then  ?  " 

"  He  went  for  his  health,  in  the  first  place.  He  had 
been  told  that  it  was  necessary,  and  he  invested  all 
his  fortune  in  such  a  way  that  he  cannot  get  it  back  at 
present,  and  he  ought  not  to  do  so,  for  it  is  increasing 
rapidly.  So  he  must  stay." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "I  think  you  must  have 
kept  him  pretty  much  to  yourself,  to  learn  all  this. 
Perhaps  Alice  will  have  a  different  story  to  tell  about 
him.  She  does  not  like  to  be  neglected." 

"  Alice  was  really  absurd.  She  kept  pushing  me  on 
him  and  him  on  me ;  you  know  what  a  tease  she  can 
be.  You  will  see  by  and  by  whether  she  thinks  well  of 
Mr.  Audran  or  not." 

"Very  well,  I  shall  soon  know,"  said  her  mother. 
"Meantime,  there  is  another  Richmond  in  the  field. 
You  must  prepare  yourself  to  be  very  civil  to  the  Baron 
Waldeyer." 

"  The  Baron  Waldeyer !  '  What  is  Hecuba  to  me  or 
I  to  Hecuba?'" 

"  Did  you  not  meet  him  on  the  boat,  the  day  you 
left  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  but  I  had  forgotten  it.  Mamma,  I 
have  n't  told  you,  but  I  shall  never  forget  the  baroness 


112  MANUELA  PARADES. 

and  that  morning.  She  took  the  greatest  and  most 
sudden  fancy  to  me,  —  past  all  understanding." 

"No,  Helen,  not  past  mine  or  hers.  I  have  some- 
thing very  strange,  very  important,  to  tell  you ;  but  I 
must  not  begin  before  the  doctor  comes."  And  Mrs. 
Dysart  proceeded  to  arrange  for  her  child  a  most  effec- 
tive and  dainty  invalid's  toilet  of  white  muslin  wrapper 
and  pale-blue  ribbons.  Scarcely  was  it  complete  when 
the  card  of  M.  le  Docteur  Sciler,  Chirurgien,  was  brought 
to  the  door,  and  the  doctor  himself  followed. 

He  examined  the  shoulder  carefully,  pronounced  it 
perfectly  in  place,  and  the  swelling  very  slight.  Almost 
all  traces  of  the  accident  would  be  gone  in  a  day  or  two, 
and  mademoiselle  was  very  much  indebted  to  the  gen- 
tleman who  so  promptly  replaced  it,  he  said.  Was 
much  force  required  ? 

"I  think  not,"  said  Helen.  "I  was  under  chloro- 
form, but  my  companion  said  it  seemed  to  be  done 
more  by  some  sleight  of  hand  than  by  violence." 

"  Ah ! "  said  the  doctor,  "  the  procedure  of  the  Ameri- 
can^ —  method  of  Reid  and  Bigelow.  It  is  not  every 
surgeon  who  has  learned  the  proper  manipulation.  Your 
friend  is  an  adept,  it  appears,  —  very  successful,  cer- 
tainly, for  an  amateur.  He  has  also  told  me  that  you 
have  employed  a  decoction  of  hamamelis  as  a  dressing. 
That  also  is  well.  My  work  is  anticipated.  Should 
any  unexpected  trouble  occur,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  be 
called  in  again ;  but  for  the  present  I  have  the  honor 
to  wish  you  good  evening."  And  the  doctor  bowed 
himself  out. 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  113 

"  Now,  mother,  what  is  it  ? "  said  Helen,  as  the  door 
closed. 

And  Mrs.  Dysart  recounted  with  wonderful  precision 
all  that  had  passed  between  herself  and  the  baroness. 
They  were  still  in  earnest  conference  when  Alice  and 
Eugene  entered.  When  Mrs.  Dysart  had  made  sure 
that  they  were  safe  and  sound,  she  asked,  "  Have  you 
had  a  good  time,  Alice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mrs.  Dysart !  That  is  the  way  to  live,  — 
to  have  every  sort  of  pleasure  prepared  for  you,  and 
then  to  enjoy  it  with  the  best  company  in  the  world." 

"  So  you  too  admire  the  Audrans,  do  you  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Dysart. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  Walter  is  my  peculiar  property, 
and  he  is  a  perfectly  splendid  boy ;  and  as  for  Robert, 
if  Helen  ever  lets  him  go,  she  ought  to  die  an  old 
maid." 

"  Suppose  he  lets  her  go,  Alice,"  said  Helen. 

"  Nonsense !  He  worships  you,  you  know  he  does  ; 
and  if  you  don't  know,  I  do.  Did  n't  he  save  your  life, 
when  we  sent  that  awful  log  down  on  you  ?  Oh,  if  we 
had  killed  you,  forever  and  forever !  We  should  have 
done  it  had  it  not  been  for  him,  and  none  of  us  ever 
could  have  been  happy  again,  —  never !  Mr.  Audran 
saved  you  and  all  of  us,  and  then  he  treated  you  like  all 
the  skilful  doctors  in  the  world  put  together ;  and  long 
before  that  he  as  much  as  told  me  that  you  were  all  the 
gain  and  all  the  good  of  life  to  him.  He  let  you  go  ? 
Why,  you  were  made  for  him !  " 

Helen  was  almost  as  much  excited  as  Alice  as  she 
8 


114  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

said,  "Now,  Alice,  please  make  an  end  of  this  just 
now  and  here  and  forever.  Mr.  Audran  and  I  shall  be 
good  friends  as  long  as  we  have  a  chance,  and  that  is  all 
there  is  of  it.  You  make  yourself  ridiculous  and  me 
wretched  by  assuming  that  there  is  anything  more.  You 
are  endangering  all  my  pride  and  self-respect,  and  you 
will  annoy  Mr.  Audran  by  putting  him  where  he  does 
not  wish  to  go.  You  would  not  drive  him  away  from  us 
all,  would  you,  dear  ?  " 

"  Well,  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  hate  it !  "  said  Alice. 
"I  hate  these  measured  words,  these  smothered  feel- 
ings. It  is  not  the  way  in  which  we  have  lived  these 
last  four  days.  Mr.  Audran  broke  that  all  up  at  once, 
and  taught  us  that  we  might  say  just  what  we  thought 
and  do  just  as  we  felt.  It  was  lovely,  and  there  was  no 
harm  in  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  Mr.  Audran  knows  how  to  make 
everything  pleasant,  and  he  felt  that  this  little  trip 
was  to  be  a  thing  apart  by  itself,  a  venture  out  and 
away  from  the  world,  a  brief  season  with  Nature,  where 
perfectly  natural  impulses  might  rule ;  and  it  was  re- 
freshing and  memorable.  But  Mr.  Audran  knows  just 
as  well  that  impulses  do  not  rule  the  lives  of  sensible 
people,  and  that  in  the  main  we  must  make  to-morrow 
like  to-day ;  he  would  not  think  of  continuing  the  man- 
ners of  an  excursion  like  ours  into  the  life  of  a  man  of 
the  world ;  and  you  would  not  like  it  if  he  did.  You 
would  not  be  so  impulsive  in  your  own  case,  Alice :  it 
is  only  for  your  friends  that  you  assume  so  much,  and 
are  so  very  inconvenient.1' 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  115 

"  Well,"  said  Alice  humbly,  "  it  was  very  nice  while 
it  lasted,  but  I  won't  say  any  more.  There  is  no  use 
in  arguing  with  you,  Helen ;  but  if  you  feel  as  you  talk 
now  you  are  colder-hearted  than  I  thought  you  were 
yesterday." 

"  Let  it  pass,  dear,"  said  Helen,  with  a  sigh ;  "  and 
now  go  and  dress  for  dinner,  and  please  come  back  af- 
terward and  get  a  note  for  Mr.  Audran.  Mamma  and 
I  must  be  alone  all  the  rest  of  the  evening.  Can  we 
trust  you  with  those  three  gentlemen,  or  must  we  send 
you  to  bed  ?  " 

"  How  provoking  you  are  !  I  shall  make  no  promises 
now.  You  and  Mrs.  Grundy  may  inquire  into  the  mat- 
ter afterward,  if  you  like." 

Then  Helen  wrote  her  little  note  :  — 

DEAR  MR.  AUDRAN,  —  I  told  you  that  I  felt  as  if 
some  crisis  were  coming :  it  has  come.  My  mother  and 
I  have  enough  to  do  to  consider  it.  To-night  we  must 
give  to  each  other.  Later  I  may  explain  further. 

H.  D. 

Then  the  two  resumed  their  interrupted  conversation. 

"  Now  tell  me,  mother  dear,  what  real  impression  of 
the  baroness  has  all  this  left  on  your  mind  ? " 

"  It  is  not  so  hard  for  me  to  understand  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Dysart.  "  As  a  young  woman  she  was  a  person  entirely 
emotional,  with  no  resources  of  education  or  society. 
Her  faculties  were  altogether  undeveloped ;  she  knew 
nothing  of  the  world ;  and  she  has  a  most  ardent  tem- 
perament, —  nothing  but  the  most  devoted  love  and 


Il6  MANUELA   PARADES. 

attention  would  have  satisfied  her.  She  could  not  enter 
into  your  father's  cares  and  business  anxieties ;  she 
could  not  even  entertain  his  leisure  —  if  indeed  he  had 
any  —  with  any  theme  but  herself.  She  never  loved 
him  really,  but  she  had  a  most  insatiable  need  of  being 
loved  by  some  one. 

"  Your  father  has  often  told  me  that  he  did  a  great 
wrong  in  not  devoting  more  time  and  thought  to  her. 
But  he  was  working  with  the  greatest  anxiety  to  rescue 
that  mine,  and  to  convert  a  crushing  disaster  into  suc- 
cess. And  he  did  it.  This,  and  this  alone,  was  the 
idea  of  his  life  at  that  time  ;  and  just  as  success  greater 
than  he  had  dared  to  hope  had  become  assured,  you 
were  born  ;  and  as  your  mother  says,  and  her  physicians 
said  also,  she  was  not  fully  responsible  for  what  she  did. 
Women  after  a  confinement  often  become  morbid  to 
the  point  of  insanity  in  some  one  direction,  while  appar- 
ently sane  in  all  others.  He  left  her,  —  he  should  have 
stayed  with  her,  —  and  she  was  stung  by  the  apparent 
neglect  into  a  kind  of  monomania,  the  common  result 
of  which  would  have  been  the  taking  of  her  own  life ; 
instead  of  which  she  fell  into  the  way  of  this  Baron 
Waldeyer,  who,  according  to  her  account  of  him,  must 
have  been  a  remarkable  man,  —  such  a  man  as  some  of 
Shelley's  biographers  would  like  to  have  us  believe  him 
to  have  been. 

"Most  men  capable  of  enticing  a  married  woman 
from  her  home  would  be  capable  of  deserting  her  in  a 
month  ;  but  this  man  was  an  exception.  He  continued 
fond  and  faithful  till  he  died ;  and  they  lived  a  life 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  117 

apart  from  the  world,  filled  with  thought  and  study  and 
enthusiasm,  under  which  her  excellent  natural  powers 
developed,  and  she  became  a  thoroughly  well-educated 
woman.  Without  children  or  domestic  cares  of  any 
kind,  they  lived  in  and  for  each  other,  cultivating  a  ro- 
mantic sort  of  morality  and  philosophy,  for  which,  I 
dare  say,  we  might  all  be  the  better.  At  any  rate,  she 
regards  him  as  the  author  of  all  her  powers  ;  and  she 
has  such  skill  in  conversation,  and  is  so  continuous  and 
logical  in  her  discourse,  that  it  is  evident  she  has  been 
formed  on  some  masculine  model,  and  that  a  good  one  ; 
while  her  thoughts  and  feelings  are  full  of  tenderness, 
as  only  those  of  a  woman  who  has  been  dearly  and  en- 
tirely loved  and  trusted  can  be.  I  do  believe  that  these 
two  abandoned  people  were  thoroughly  gentle,  conscien- 
tious, and  forbearing  toward  each  other,  and  that  they 
meant  to  do  every  good  for  which  they  found  opportu- 
nity. How  else  could  it  be  that  when  the  baron  came 
to  die,  he  should  have  thought-  so  much  of  you,  as  one 
who  might  take  his  place  in  cherishing  and  comforting 
her  ?  How  else  can  it  be  that  she  speaks  of  him  always 
as  though  he  had  been  the  model  of  every  virtue,  and 
that,  with  wealth  and  station  at  her  command,  her  first 
desire  and  longing  should  be  for  a  quiet  life  and  family 
affection  ?  I  think,  too,  there  is  a  sense  of  wounded 
conscience  which  leads  her  to  wish  very  earnestly  to 
make  amends  to  her  own  daughter  and  your  father's 
child.  Withal,  she  has  the  instinct  of  an  outlaw  :  she 
has  framed  her  defence  against  society,  believes  it  effec- 
tive, is  aware  of  her  resources,  and  means  to  use  them 


Il8  MANUELA   PARADES. 

to  the  best  advantage.  In  an  extremity  she  might  be 
cruel,  perhaps,  but  only  in  extremity.  She  is  not  selfish 
or  vindictive,  but  she  is  resolute  and  strong." 

"Do  you  think  my  father  has  any  conception  of  such 
a  character  in  her  ?  " 

"  Oh  no  !  He  has  believed  for  years  —  we  both  be- 
lieved —  that  immediately  after  her  flight  she  went  to 
the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  with  all  her  perverse  and  half- 
insane  fancies  upon  her,  never  more  to  suffer  or  to 
repent.  The  thought  of  it  has  always  been  a  great  sor- 
row to  him ;  and  I  was  so  glad  to  hear  her  say  that  he 
was  never  unjust  or  unkind  to  her.  The  only  sin  she 
charged  him  with  was  that  he  did  not  love  her  as  she  de- 
sired to  be  loved.  He  has  often  told  me  that  she  had 
excellent  qualities,  which  training  might  have  developed, 
and  has  mourned  over  her  starved  heart  and  early  death. 
In  one  sense,  I  know  it  will  be  a  relief  to  him  to  learn 
that  she  lives,  and  has  passed  a  sweet  and  tranquil  life. 
We  must  hope  that  she  is  essentially  good,  and  kind 
beyond  the  ordinary  standard  of  men  and  women ;  for 
I  fear  she  has  us  very  much  at  her  mercy  in  some 
respects." 

"  Why  ?    What  can  you  mean,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that,  so  long  as  she  lives  undivorced,  she  is 
still  your  father's  wife,  whatever  I  may  be,  and  that  my 
children  share  my  doubtful  position." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  That  is  impossible  !  That  is  a  nomi- 
nal thing  only.  Surely,  dear  mother,  you  will  not  let 
that  trouble  you." 

"  My  dear,  it  is  nominal,  but  then  the  names  of  things 


MOTHER   AND  DAUGHTER.  1 19 

stand  for  the  things  themselves  to  half  the  world.  The 
scandal-loving  and  the  malicious  could  use  this  circum- 
stance to  our  infinite  annoyance  and  reproach,  and  they 
would  do  so.  There  are  always  people  who  joy  and 
glory  in  giving  undeserved  pain  to  those  whose  station 
in  society  has  been  such  as  ours.  Of  course,  as  the 
baroness  says,  there  must  be  a  divorce ;  and  it  is  quite 
in  her  power  to  make  it  a  public  matter,  or  something 
done  in  a  corner.  Any  way,  it  will  be  as  she  chooses." 

"  But  surely  she  has  more  at  stake  than  we.  She  is 
but  one,  and  we  are  five." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it :  she  is  but  one,  and  we  are  five.  Her 
life  is  half  done  ;  our  children's  lives  are  beginning.  She 
is  not  entangled,  as  we  are,  in  a  large  social  circle. 
Think  of  all  the  base  uses  which  malice  might  make  of 
such  a  circumstance,  and  of  what  we  might  suffer,  par- 
ticularly Julia. 

"  Beside  this,  there  is  her  power  over  your  father's  for- 
tune to  be  considered.  You  remember  that  Julia  wrote 
that  he  was  troubled  and  sleepless  about  something; 
and  she  has  told  me  that  that  man  Fayrolle,  who  was 
mentioned  in  the  letter,  is  her  agent.  I  have  been 
trying  to  recall  what  your  father  once  said  to  me  on  the 
subject.  As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  it  was  that  on 
the  very  day  when  Manuela  left  London,  he,  at  Glas- 
gow, closed  a  contract  with  a  Scotch  company,  by  which 
he  sold  to  them  the  mine,  receiving  from  them  ^"10,000 
and  a  royalty  "of  one  fourth  of  the  production  of  the 
mine ;  that  in  six  weeks  after,  with  an  engineer  and 
superintendent  of  their  choice,  he  returned  to  Mexico, 


120  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

leaving  you  in  care  of  an  excellent  old  lady  whom  he 
knew ;  that  he  remained  there  three  months,  and  then 
returned  to  Glasgow  and  became  one  of  the  resident 
directors ;  and  it  was  there  you  know,  that  he  married 
me,  —  when  you  were  about  eighteen  months  old. 

"  Now,  your  mother  being  dead  as  we  supposed,  you 
were  her  only  heir,  —  only  heir  of  old  Paredes  also ; 
and  so  your  father  naturally  treated  the  .£10,000,  and 
the  stock,  which  for  twenty  years  continued  to  pay  great 
dividends,  as  his  own  ;  and  for  her  share  —  the  larger 
share  —  of  that,  with  the  addition,  perhaps,  of  what  the 
lawyers  term  mesne  profits,  she  may  now  call  him  to 
account.  I  tremble  to  think  what  the  amount  may  be,  — 
much  more  than  he  could  repay,  I  fear.  He  has  often 
told  me  that  this  mining  affair  was  the  one  great  success 
of  his  life.  What  would  become  of  us  all,  in  that  case  ? 
Is  that  not  enough,  Helen  ? " 

"  A  great  deal  more  than  enough,  dear  mother  ;  and 
yet  you  think  that  she  does  not  seem  disposed  to  use 
her  power.  Why,  then,  does  she  menace  us  with  it  ? 
What  does  she  want  ?  " 

"  She  wants  you,  dear ;  and,  of  course,  I  do  not 
want  to  give  you  up  to  her.  To  do  her  justice,  she  did 
not  hint  at  the  power  she  might  exercise  until  I  had 
defied  her  to  do  her  utmost  in  case  we  chose  to  keep 
you  from  her,  and  then  she  did  it  as  mildly  as  was  com- 
patible with  being  fully  comprehended." 

"  Of  course  she  must  know  that  to  carry  out  any  part 
of  what  she  threatened  would  settle  forev£r  the  question 
of  my  ever  having  anything  to  do  with  her  ?  " 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  121 

"  Yes ;  and  that  may  have  been  the  reason  why  she 
was  so  very  moderate.  You  could  hardly  imagine  that 
a  meaning  so  hard  and  painful  could  be  conveyed  in 
words  and  tones  so  gentle  ;  but  all  the  time  the  iron 
purpose  could  be  felt  under  the  silken  courtesy.  How 
did  she  behave  to  you  on  the  boat  ?  " 

"  She  quite  broke  down,  and  broke  me  down  too. 
As  Alice  said,  we  both  went  to  pieces  in  the  most 
extraordinary  way." 

"  There  is  another  side  to  the  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Dy- 
sart.  "  Before  she  hinted  of  the  harm  which  it  is  in  her 
power  to  do,  she  tried  to  allure  by  indicating  how  much 
she  has  to  bestow.  It  was  not  made  a  parade  of,  only 
delicately  intimated.  She  would  make  you  her  heiress, 
give  you  all  manner  of  social  chances,  etc.  But  I  did 
not  mean  to  speak  of  this  :  you  will  hear  that  more 
naturally  from  herself." 

"  Well,  I  must  see  her,"  said  Helen.  "  All  this  will 
seem  different,  perhaps,  when  I  hear  it  from  her  own 
lips ;  but,  mother  dearest,  you  can't  imagine  that  it  can 
make  any  difference  with  me  ?  However  I  may  be 
complicated  with  her,  I  am  more  your  daughter  than 
any  one's  else,  and  a  thousand  times  more  proud  and 
fond  of  you  than  I  could  be  of  any  other.  Oh,  how  good 
you  have  been  never  to  let  me  feel  that  there  was  any 
difference  between  me  and  the  other  children,  —  to  have 
been  always  so  kind  and  true  to  the  child  of  a  stranger 
and  a  reprobate  ! "  and  she  kissed  Mrs.  Dysart  passion- 
ately, and  again  and  again.  "  Now,  mother,  shall  I  go 
to  her  ? " 


122  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  Yes,  dear,  the  sooner  the  better,  I  think.  Anybody 
else  I  should  wish  to  caution  and  instruct ;  but  you,  — 
you  will  do  just  what  is  right ;  only  don't  anger  her." 

Helen  went  to  her  room  to  make  some  little  changes 
in  her  dress,  and  sent  a  card  :  "  Miss  Dysart  will  call 
upon  the  Baroness  Waldeyer  in  her  apartment,  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  if  the  baroness  can  receive  her." 

The  servant  promptly  brought  back  a  card  with  these 
two  words  upon  it,  "  Do  come." 

A  few  moments  later  Helen  tapped  lightly  at  the 
door,  which  was  opened  at  once  by  the  lady  herself. 
"  Come  in,  dear  child,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  sitting 
apart  and  alone  since  noon>  waiting  for  this  visit,  and  I 
have  been  hoping  and  planning  for  it  for  years.  When 
you  kissed  me  on  Tuesday  morning,  I  felt  that  it  was 
not  for  the  last  time.  Helen,  I  have  not  been  a  good 
mother  to  you  in  the  past,  but  it  is  my  great  desire  to 
be  so  now.  Whatever  of  life  remains  will  be  very  sad 
if  I  must  spend  it  without  you,  and  it  seems  to  me  that 
it  might  be  very,  very  happy  if  you  will  consent  to  make 
it  so.  Through  you  I  can  make  the  only  possible  atone- 
ment for  the  wrong  I  did  your  father.  You  may  know 
something  of  what  the  chagrin  and  sorrow  of  a  childless 
wife  is  said  to  be,  —  believe  me,  it  does  not  compare 
with  that  of  a  mother  for  ever  kept  apart  from  her  only 
living  child.  What  is  your  feeling  toward  me,  Helen  ?  " 

Helen  looked  long  and  searchingly  at  the  stately 
figure  before  her.  The  baroness  was  simply  but  richly 
dressed  in  black.  Her  abundant  white  hair  was  brushed 
smoothly  up  and  back  under  a  veil-like  barbe  of  Span- 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  123 

ish  lace.  The  same  lace  trimmed  the  square  corsage, 
and  was  gathered  and  confined  under  the  white  throat 
by  a  cluster  of  large  pearls  set  in  black  enamel.  Helen 
felt  that  her  mother  had  dressed  herself  to  meet  her 
eye,  and  the  thought  gave  her  pleasure.  There  was  a 
moment  of  silence,  then  she  said,  "  I  do  not  know  if 
you  expect  me  to  answer  that  question  exactly,  madame. 
I  have  not  yet  recovered  from  the  surprise  which  my 
mother's  account  has  given  me." 

"  I  hope  Madame  Dysart  has  been  able  to  tell  you  all 
or  most  of  that  which  passed  between  us.  It  will  then 
not  be  necessary  for  me  to  rehearse  it.  You  have  called 
her  your  mother,  Helen.  Not  even  the  pain  which  that 
word  from  your  lips  occasions  can  make  me  forget  that 
she  has  earned  it  over  and  over  again  from  you,  and 
that  I  owe  her  whatever  is  due  to  one  who  has  saved 
and  guarded  and  restored  my  greatest  treasure.  But  if 
you  call  her  mother,  what  will  you  call  me  ? " 

"  That  is  hard  to  say,"  answered  Helen.  "  Perhaps 
it  may  be  mother,  too." 

"Are  we  not  like  each  other,  Helen  ?  Come,  stand 
with  me  before  the  glass  "  ;  and  she  led  her  to  a  full- 
length  mirror,  passed  her  arm  around  her  waist,  and 
drew  her  to  her  side.  "  See  !  "  she  said  triumphantly. 

There  was  indeed  a  striking  likeness.  The  same 
broad,  low  brow ;  the  same  finely-cut  nose,  with  spirited 
nostrils  ;  the  same  pure  complexion,  though  the  mother's 
was  of  darker  hue  ;  and,  more  notable  than  all,  the  same 
oval  curve  to  cheek  and  chin,  and  full,  columnar  neck. 

"  I  am  old  and  heavy,"  said  the  baroness,  "  and  you 


124  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

are  young,  but  we  are  of  the  same  height,  and  once  my 
figure  was  slender  as  yours.  See  here  !  "  and  she  drew 
from  her  drawer  a  folding  case  of  Russia  leather,  con- 
taining three  pictures  of  herself,  —  one  daguerreotype, 
dated  1840,  and  two  photographs,  marked  1850  and 
1860.  That  of  1850  would,  allowing  for  fashion  of 
dress,  have  been  a  fair  portrait  of  Helen  herself.  "  Are 
we  not  enough  like  one  another  to  be  mother  and 
daughter,  Helen  ?  You  have  old  Castilian  blood  in 
your  veins.  Your  great-uncle  was  President  of  Mexico, 
and  your  great-grandfather  an  Admiral  of  Spain.  You 
were  Helen  Paredes  Dysart  when  I  left  you  in  your 
cradle,  but  I  suppose  they  never  let  you  hear  that 
name."  Still  they  stood  before  the  glass,  and  now  the 
baroness  loosened  her  arm  from  Helen's  waist.  "  Kiss 
me,  dear,  before  I  let  you  go,  and  I  will  show  you 
something  more." 

She  kissed  her  daughter  on  forehead  and  lips,  and 
then,  stooping,  drew  from  a  drawer  two  miniature  cases. 
"  This  is  your  great-grandfather's  portrait,  Helen,"  she 
said.  It  was  a  miniature  on  ivory  of  a  fine,  soldierly 
man,  in  the  showy  uniform  of  a  Mexican  general. 

"  Now,"  said  the  baroness,  "  sit  down  on  the  sofa  and 
let  me  tell  you  a  little  story  about  the  other.  You  must 
carry  it  away  with  you  when  you  go ;  it  belongs  to  you 
now.  I  have  told  you  that  your  great-grandfather  was 
an  Admiral  of  Spain  :  he  was  more  than  that,  —  he  was 
a  brave  man.  When  he  was  a  young  lieutenant  of 
marine,  he  was  for  the  time  attached  to  the  suite  of 
Charles  the  Third,  then  the  reigning  king,  at  a  time 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  12$ 

when  he  was  making  his  customary  tour  of  the  prov- 
inces..  One  day  —  it  was  the  nth  of  August,  1771  — 
he  was  crossing  the  Bidassoa,  when  the  bridge  broke, 
and  the  king  and  all  his  escort  were  thrown  into  the 
river.  From  the  wreck  of  the  bridge  and  the  mass  of 
men  and  horses  struggling  in  the  water,  my  grandfather 
seized  and  rescued  the  king,  almost  losing  his  own  life 
in  the  effort.  This  brought  him  into  notice,  and,  added 
to  his  own  merit,  resulted  in  great  promotion."  The 
king  gave  him  this  locket,  inscribed  with  the  royal  name 
and  this  motto,  'Pro  vita  reddita,'  —  that  means,  'For  a 
life  restored/  you  know.  It  was  a  great  treasure  to  him ; 
and,  dearest,  there  it  is,  '  for  a  life  restored '  to  me,  — 
your  life,  my  darling.  Let  it  be  your  mother's  first  gift 
to  you.  Never  mind  looking  at  it  now.  It  belongs  to 
you.  You  are  his  latest  descendant."  And  she  placed 
the  little  case  of  faded  morocco  in  Helen's  hand. 

"  Helen,  do  you  think  I  was  a  very  wicked  woman  to 
leave  your  father  as  I  did  ?  I  can  see  now  how  wrong 
it  was ;  but  you  do  not  know  how  wild  and  wretched 
and  bewildered  I  then  was.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he 
never  had  loved  me  and  never  could ;  and  to  be  loved 
was  a  necessity  of  my  nature.  I  felt  as  though  I  must 
die  if  no  one  cared  for  me ;  that  without  love  and  sym- 
pathy I  should  become  wicked  and  deceitful  and  cruel. 
I  don't  know  to  this  day  how  I  did  it ;  and  when  I  met 
Baron  Waldeyer  in  Brussels,  as  I  had  appointed,  I  had 
no  idea  how  I  got  there,  —  it  was  all  like  a  delirious 
dream.  How  certain  it  would  seem  that  such  a  step 
must  conduct  to  some  bitter  end !  But  it  was  not  so 


126  MANUELA  PARADES. 

with  us.  The  baron  was  a  wonderfully  good  man,  —  an 
enthusiast,  whose  soul  had  revolted  from  the  common 
restraints  of  life  because  of  the  tyranny  of  schools  and 
priests.  He  found  what  he  sought  for  in  my  young  and 
wounded  spirit ;  and  from  the  day  I  went  to  him  to  the 
day  when  he  went  from  me  never  to  return,  he  was  all 
that  a  lover,  a  husband,  a  father,  and  a  teacher  could  be. 
We  were  together  constantly,  and  never  was  there  a 
cloud  or  a  chill  between  us.  Can  the  daughter  of  Mr. 
Dysart  admit  of  any  explanation,  any  excuse,  for  the 
wife  and  mother  who  abandoned  him  and  her  ? " 

"  The  daughter  can  believe,  as  she  is  told  the  father 
does,  that  the  act  was  done  in  an  irrational  and  ir- 
responsible state  of  mind,  induced,  partly  at  least,  by 
physical  causes." 

"  Thank  God !  "  said  the  baroness,  "  if  such  charity 
has  covered  my  name  and  memory.  Indeed,  indeed,  I 
believe  it  was  the  truth,  but  I  dared  not  hope  to  have  it 
recognized  by  those  I  had  wronged.  Helen,  if  I  might 
venture  to  say  it,  I  have  always  felt  that  my  disappear- 
ance was  a  great  and  happy  relief  to  your  father.  The 
second  choice  which  he  made  was  infinitely  more  for  his 
pleasure  and  advantage  than  his  first.  I  never  could 
have  satisfied  him  ;  I  can  well  believe  that  Mrs.  Dysart 
has  done  so.  Your  father  was  beguiled  into  marrying 
me  in  that  lonely  home  among  the  mountains,  where  he 
then  supposed  he  might  have  to  spend  his  life.  In  the 
open  world,  among  men  and  women,  neither  of  us  could 
ever  have  chosen  the  other.  No  busy,  intent,  thought- 
ful, ambitious  man  ought  ever  to  have  married  me. 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  127 

The  Baron  Waldeyer  is  the  only  man  I  ever  knew  who 
could  have  made  anything  out  of  me,  and  he  did  it  by 
the  education  of  a  lifetime,  associating  me  constantly 
with  himself,  whose  bright  intellect  was  not  more  re- 
markable than  his  gentleness  and  justness  of  temper. 
If  I  talk  all  the  time  of  myself,  Helen,  it  is  because  I 
am  pleading  my  own  cause,  —  because  I  cannot  bear  to 
fall  under  the  judgment  of  one  whose  life  has  been  calm 
and  serene  and  spotless  as  yours,  till  I  have  done  what 
I  may  to  convince  you  that  your  mother  is  not  and  has 
never  been  simply  a  faithless,  erring  woman.  Our  life 

—  the  baron's   and   mine — was   always   recluse.     We 
never  kept  terms  of  intimacy  with  any  of  our  country 
neighbors.     In  the  summer  we  sometimes  spent  a  month 
in  the  Black  Forest  or  the  Tyrol,  and  in  the  winter  we 
occasionally  went  to  some  Mediterranean  town  or  island, 

—  to  Naples,  or  Palermo,  or  Malta ;  but  nine  months 
in  every  twelve  we  lived  on  our  own  estate  near  Colmar. 
So  it  comes  that  I  have  no  social  aids  or  social  chan- 
nels for  my  life.     I   ask  nothing  of   the  world  which  I 
have  not  already :  it  holds  nothing  that  I  want  except 
yourself." 

"  And  what  is  it  that  you  want  of  me,  dear  madame  — 
m-mother  ? "  said  Helen. 

"  The  right  to  call  you  daughter,  the  hope  to  see  you 
often,  the  chance  to  serve  your  needs  ;  your  love  while  I 
live,  your  voice  in  my  ear,  your  image  in  my  eye  ;  when 
my  senses  sink  in  death,  your  prayer  for  my  parting 
soul,  your  tear  for  my  memory.  Helen,  I  want  to  be 
your  mother." 


128  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

Helen  trembled  in  the  conflict  of  feeling  as  she  an- 
swered, "  But  how  can  I  be  divided  from  the  associations 
of  a  lifetime,  from  all  the  sure  and  long-proved  sympa- 
thies among  which  I  have  grown  up,  from  the  scenes 
where  my  past  is  laid,  from  the  methods  in  which  only  I 
can  work,  from  the  objects  which  I  desire  to  win  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  ask  it,  Helen.  J  do  not  want  to  direct  or 
control  your  life  ;  I  only  want  to  observe  it,  near  or 
remote,  as  you  may  choose.  You  will  not  find  me 
intrusive ;  you  will  find  me  serviceable.  Whatever  your 
hold  on  others,  whatever  their  hold  on  you,  if  you  wish 
it  to  abide,  I  do  not  wish  it  to  be  disturbed.  I  may  not 
go  with  you  into  your  father's  house,  —  that  is  just  pun- 
ishment for  my  wrong-doing, — but  I  would  offer,  if  I 
may,  what  amends  are  possible,  and  I  cannot  go  un- 
loved all  the  rest  of  my  days.  I  am  not  young,  but 
there  is  life  in  me  yet.  It  was  this  sense  of  want  which 
drove  me  from  my  husband  once.  Will  my  daughter 
drive  me  away  again  ?  To  whom  shall  I  go  ?  Thou 
hast  the  words  of  life.  I  wonder  at  you,  Helen,  —  I 
wonder  that  you  should  be  nearly  thirty  years  old  and 
Helen  Dysart  still.  Perfect  in  form  and  feature,  per- 
fect in  voice  and  manner,  full  of  sense  and  force  and 
youth  and  love,  —  are  there  no  mates  for  such  in  your 
land  that  you  have  not  been  wooed  and  won  ?  Wooed 
often  enough,  it  must  be.  You  think  I  am  flattering 
you,  my  darling,  perhaps,  —  that  this  mode  of  speech  is 
of  purpose.  You  don't  know  how  I  have  dreamed  of 
you  for  years,  —  of  what  you  might  be  like.  If  you  had 
been  very  plain,  I  should  have  wanted  you  just  the 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  129 

same,  but  not  just  as  much.  I  had  my  own  notion  of 
you.  I  thought  of  you  as  pleasing,  pretty,  petite,  slen- 
der, frail,  petulant,  like  so  many  American  girls  whom 
I  have  seen  at  Nice  and  elsewhere.  I  never  imagined 
you  as  fair  and  firm  and  fresh  and  full  j  I  never  dreamed 
how  much  I  was  to  win  in  winning  you,  and  I  am  elated 
in  proportion.  On  one  trait  in  you  I  feel  that  I  may 
count,  and  that  is  sincerity.  You  would  despise  me  if 
you  thought  I  did  not  mean  what  I  say,  and  you  would 
detect  falsity  at  once.  With  you  I  could  not  dare  be 
false." 

"  Where  do  you  get  all  your  words,  mother  ?  It  must 
be  your  Spanish  blood.  We  Americans  are  slower  of 
speech." 

"  Yes,  dearest,  I  know  I  am  excited ;  but,  as  I  told 
you,  I  hardly  dared  to  let  you  speak  until  I  felt  sure 
that  you  would  say  the  word  I  wish  to  hear.  You  have 
said  it,  —  mother.  Helen,  I  will  not  burden  you  fur- 
ther at  present.  You  shall  go  now,  darling,  to  think 
over  what  I  have  said ;  but  oh,  how  poor  are  words  to 
explain  all  I  wish  you  to  understand  ! " 

The  baroness  rose.  On  the  opposite  wall  hung  an 
engraving  of  the  Sistine  Madonna ;  it  caught  her  eye. 
With  sudden  emotion  she  flung  herself  upon  her  knees, 
and  with  clasped,  upraised  hands  and  beseeching  eyes 
she  prayed, — 

"  Mary,  Mother,  Beloved,  Spotless,  —  as  thou  didst 
love  and  worship  thy  divine  Son,  so  intercede  with  him 
that  my  daughter's  heart  may  become  mine  !  " 

Helen's  tears  started  at  the  sight  of  such  emotion ; 


130  MANUELA   PARADES. 

and  her  mother,  rising,  took  her  in  her  arms  and  com- 
forted her  "  as  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth." 

"  Go,  darling,  to  your  other  mother.  Carry  her  my 
love  and  thanks.  You  shall  not  again  see  me  so  de- 
monstrative. We  will  be  bright  and  cheery  now." 

Helen  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  went  as  bidden. 


BARON  WALDEYER.  131 


CHAPTER    IX. 

BARON   WALDEYER. 

T  TELEN  hastened  along  the  passage  toward  Mrs. 
•*•  -*•  Dysart's  chamber,  and,  making  a  sudden  turn, 
she  came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  Robert  Audran. 

"  Miss  Dysart !  Is  that  you,  — weeping  too  ?  "  as  he 
looked  in  Helen's  swollen  eyes.  Can  I  serve  you  in  any 
way  ?  If  I  can,  you  will  tell  me,  I  am  sure,  and  will  not 
think  me  intrusive." 

"  No,  you  cannot  serve  me,  —  at  least  not  now,"  said 
she  ;  "  but  indeed  it  is  a  comfort  to  know  that  you  are 
here.  I  cannot  explain  more  at  present,  but  you  shall 
know  soon  all  about  this  crisis  of  which  I  spoke.  Good- 
night ! " 

Mrs.  Dysart  was  awaiting  her.  Helen  entered  and  sat 
down. 

"  Tears,  Helen  ?  What  a  woman  the  baroness  is ! 
She  has  been  very  sweet  to  you,  I  know ;  for  you  would 
not  cry  for  anything  else." 

"  Yes,  mother,  you  say  truly,  'What  a  woman  ! '  She 
sent  her  love  and  thanks  to  you." 

"  What  is  that  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"  Something  which  she  made  me  take.  I  was  so  dis- 
turbed when  I  left  her  that  I  did  not  know  I  had  it. 
Some  jewel  or  decoration  of  her  grandfather." 


132  MANUELA  PARADES. 

She  opened  the  box  and  took  from  it  a  medallion,  —  a 
disk  of  gold,  about  two  inches  in  diameter,  stamped  in  the 
middle  with  the  royal  arms  of  Spain,  and  the  legend, 
"Carolus  III.  Rex  Hispan.  et  Ind.  a  el  Capitan  Manuel 
Pare'des.  Pro  vita  reddita."  Surrounding  the  legend 
were  two  bands  of  blue  enamel,  each  containing,  in 
ouches  of  silver,  six  rose-diamonds,  and  where  the 
bands  joined  was  a  thirteenth  stone,  —  a  large  and 
valuable  brilliant. 

"  It  is  very  quaint  and  rare,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  and 
very  precious  for  its  associations  to  those  to  whom  it 
belongs." 

"  She  says  it  belongs  to  me,  mother,  as  the  latest  rep- 
resentative of  his  race." 

"She  can  give  it  to  you  if  she  chooses  ;  but,  in  accept- 
ing it,  even  more  than  if  it  were  some  gift  not  an  heir- 
loom, you  accept  your  relationship  to  her.  With  all  her 
impetuous  feeling,  the  baroness  does  not  lack  adroitness. 
Was  she  very  dramatic,  Helen  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it  while  I  was  with  her.  She 
seemed  perfectly  natural.  I  could  not  feel  that  she  had 
studied  her  part  at  all.  As  for  me,  my  part  was  nothing ; 
she  did  all  the  talking,  —  and  does  n't  she  talk  well  ? 

"  Did  she  develop  anything  new,  —  anything  more 
than  she  had  said  to  me  ? " 

"  No ;  but  she  made  me  feel  how  intense  was  her  need 
of  me.  Mother,  she  is  charming ;  she  must  have  been 
very  attractive  once,  she  is  so  sweet  and  smooth  and 
soft,  —  so  graceful  in  all  her  motions  and  ways.  She 
says  she  has  lived  a  very  recluse  life.  It  is  clear  that 


BARON    WALDEYER.  133 

she  has  not  wasted  her  energy  in  dissipation  or  idle- 
ness." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  I  can  believe  that  these  two 
people,  —  Baron  Waldeyer  and  herself,  —  recognizing 
from  the  first  the  frailty  of  the  tie  which  bound  them, 
and  the  ruin  of  their  life  if  it  should  break,  set  them- 
selves to  the  preservation  of  it.  They  seem  to  have  been 
complementary  natures.  She  was  intensely  emotional, 
and  he  speculative  and  critical.  Each  was  probably  ex- 
actly suited  to  the  other.  Helen,  she  would  be  a  most 
interesting  friend  ;  and,  in  her  present  temper  at  least, 
most  delightful  and  genial.  Her  love  and  pride  would 
be  a  pleasure  to  you  ;  and  I  think  there  is  a  subtile  sym- 
pathy between  you.  I  have  come  to  feel  as  your  father 
does  about  it;  for,  since  you  left  me,  this  letter  has 
arrived  from  him." 

She  gave  the  letter  to  Helen,  who  read :  — 

NEW  YORK,  June  21. 

DEAR  EUGENIA,  — Julia  has  written  you  within  a  few 
days.  I  shall  not,  therefore,  have  any  domestic  news  to 
communicate,  except,  in  a  general  way,  that  all  goes 
well  with  the  house  and  in  Wall  Street.  We  are  both  de- 
lighted at  such  constant  and  pleasant  news  from  you. 
You  will  be  quite  cured  of  your  rheumatism,  I  hope,  — 
perhaps  before  you  go  to  St.  Moritz.  God  send  that  you 
may  do  well  enough  to  come  back  to  us  all  in  Novem- 
ber, even  if  you  should  have  to  go  to  Florida  in  Feb- 
ruary. 

You  are  enjoying  a  great  deal,  it  seems ;  and  now,  in 


134  MANUELA   PARADES. 

Switzerland,  in  July,  it  will  be  charming.  I  could  feel 
young  again  myself  with  Helen  and  Alice,  among  such 
mountains  and  lakes.  But  there  is  an  overhanging  cloud, 
and  its  shadow  comes  toward  you ;  perhaps  it  is 
even  now  dark  over  you,  —  a  most  unforeseen,  and  even 
now,  it  sometimes  seems,  a  most  incredible  complication. 
I  first  became  aware  of  it  in  the  early  days  of  this 
month,  by  a  visit  from  a  Frenchman,  a  stranger,  who 
called  himself  Fayrolle,  —  Louis  Fayrolle. 

Eugenia,  he  presented  himself  as  the  agent  and  repre- 
sentative of  the  Baroness  Waldeyer,  residing  near  Col- 
mar  in  France,  or  French  Switzerland.  And  who,  in 
Heaven's  name,  do  you  think  she  proves  —  for  I  cannot 
doubt  the  proof  —  to  be  ?  My  first,  my  long-lost  wife, 
Manuela,  —  Manuela !  who,  we  never  doubted,  was 
drowned  at  sea  twenty-nine  years  ago.  It  seems  that  she 
has  been  living  peacefully,  quietly,  and  —  if  I  may  believe 
Fayrolle  —  an  exemplary  life,  as  the  wife  of  a  Baron 
Waldeyer,  philanthropist,  philosopher,  poet ;  and  now 
she  reappears  as  his  widow  to  claim  our  Helen,  her 
daughter  ! 

I  declare  to  you  that  it  was  with  very  mixed  feelings 
that  I  learned  this  story.  There  was  relief  in  the  feel- 
ing that  that  poor  young  creature  had  not  perished  in 
an  act  of  infidelity  to  which  she  had  been  led  by  my 
culpable  neglect  and  by  her  own  morbid  condition. 
But  there  was  another  different  feeling.  She  can  or 
could  do  us  a  great  deal  of  harm.  As  we  were  never 
divorced,  she  is  yet,  in  the  eye  of  the  law,  my  wife. 
The  law  will  break  the  tie,  no  doubt,  and  declare  that  its 


BARON   WALDEYER.  135 

existence  has  been  only  technical  for  nearly  thirty  years. 
There  is  no  penalty  for  me  to  dread,  —  in  this  case, 
alas !  it  falls  on  you,  for  you  are  liable  to  be  quoted,  by 
the  malicious,  as  not  being  my  wife  ;  and,  if  this  woman 
chooses,  she  may  publish  the  fact  as  widely  as  she  pleases. 
More  than  that,  —  our  children ;  it  makes  me  sick  to 
think  how  their  innocent  names  may  be  dragged  through 
the  mire  of  gossip.  And  even  worse  than  that ;  for  if 
our  social  position  and  means  remained  what  they  have 
been,  we  could  in  time  live  down  scandal ;  but  she  has, 
I  fear,  an  awful  hold  on  all  that  I  possess,  —  the  mine, 
nine  tenths  of  which  were  her  father's  and  so  hers,  and 
all  the  enormous  profits  of  twenty  years.  It  can  be 
figured  up  to  half  a  million  at  least ;  and  that  is  more 
than  I  am  or  ever  shall  be  worth. 

What  chance  she  would  have  of  recovering  this  at 
law  I  don't  yet  know,  for  I  have  not  been  willing  to 
start  reports  by  consulting  a  lawyer. 

Dearest  wife,  I  have  not  told  you  this  because  it 
has  been  the  spectre  which  has  cheated  me  of  sleep  for 
a  fortnight.  I  would  have  borne  it  alone,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  a  practical,  and  perhaps  a  vital,  point  at  issue, 
and  which  is  or  may  be  in  your  control. 

This  man  Fayrolle  says  —  indeed,-  Manuela,  in  her 
very  able  and  effective  letter,  though  she  is  careful  not 
to  mention  money  in  any  way,  gives  me  to  understand  — 
that  she  will  accept  her  daughter  Helen  in  full  payment 
of  all  claims  against  her  father.  It  sounds  like  her;  she 
never  did  think  or  care  for  money.  Now,  do  not  think, 
you  dear  woman,  that  I  want  to  sell  Helen.  She  is  not 


136  MAN  VELA   PARADES. 

a  chattel.  I  could  not  make  a  delivery,  as  we  say  in 
Wall  Street.  God  knows  I  wish  she  were  married,  and 
so  out  of  any  suspicion  of  control  from  me  !  But  this 
most  exacting  woman,  who  reminds  one  of  the  old  play, 
"  All  for  Love,  and  the  World  Well  Lost,"  has  nursed 
her  desperate  passion  for  her  child  until  she  fancies  she 
can  regain  her  like  some  substantial  possession.  Why, 
if  she  had  never  left  me,  the  child  would,  in  all  proba- 
bility, have  passed  beyond  her  control  —  as  likely  as 
not,  out  of  her  sphere  —  before  now.  If  she  loves 
Helen,  —  as,  upon  my  soul,  I  believes  she  does,  con- 
sumingly,  —  she  would  now  be  pining  to  have  her  well 
married,  in  which  event  she  would  be  hers  no  longer. 
At  any  rate,  she  could  never  possess  more  of  her  than 
Helen  voluntarily  granted,  and  all  such  claims  as  I  have 
stated  would  make  no  difference  whatever.  She  is  wild 
in  pursuit  just  now  (how  often  we  see  that !)  and  if  she 
were  to  succeed  she  would  find  that  success  was  some- 
thing very  different  from  her  fancy.  (How  often  we  see 
that  too !) 

Any  actual  control  of  Helen  is  therefore  a  phantom. 
But  she  is  a  woman  of  real  or  assumed  rank,  of  fortune, 
Fayrolle  says,  of  good  manners  and  an  education,  ac- 
quired I  know  not  how;  this  her  letter  proves.  Indeed, 
it  was  a  remarkable  letter,  and  it  reflected  an  adult  or 
matured  phase  of  the  woman  who  wrote  that  parting 
letter  thirty  years  ago.  She  has,  therefore,  in  herself 
and  in  her  circumstances,  advantages  which  Helen  might 
well  be  anxious  to  secure. 

So,  dear  Eugenia,  it  seems  to  me,  on  the  whole,  that 


BARON   WALDEYER.  137 

as  this  baroness  is  pretty  sure  to  waylay  you  somewhere 
in  Switzerland,  you  will  do  well  to  humor  her.  Give 
her  the  shadow  she  pursues,  and  (I  hate  to  seem  mer- 
cenary) the  spectre  will  be  laid.  I  must  trust  you  to 
put  these  ideas  before  Helen.  She  will  never  believe 
that  I  love  her  less  for  urging  them. 
Ever  faithfully  yours, 

ADRIAN  DYSART. 

Mrs.  Dysart  watched  Helen's  telltale  face  as  she  read, 
and  marked  the  shadows  that  flitted  across  it,  as  cloud- 
shadows  flit  across  a  summer  landscape.  She  handed 
the  letter  back  to  her  mother,  with  a  dissatisfied  air. 

"  Well,  I  might  as  well  surrender  at  once,"  said  she. 
"  The  baroness  pulls,  and  you  and  father  push.  Is  there 
strength  enough  in  me  not  to  move  ?  It  seems  that  I 
have  risen  into  somewhat  sudden  importance.  Here 
are  you  three  old  people  —  and  Mr.  Audran  too,  per- 
haps —  who  are  speculating  on  what  is  to  be  done  with 
poor  me." 

"  Perhaps  the  Baron  Waldeyer  will  enter  the  field." 

"  That  would  be  too  much  !  Really,  it  is  flattering, 
—  I,  a  modern  Helen,  and  this  a  new  tale  of  Troy !  " 

Mrs.  Dysart  rose  and  rang  the  bell,  and  bade  a  ser- 
vant bring  a  cot  and  bedding.  "I  do  not  wonder, 
Helen,  that  with  your  fatigue,  your  arm,  the  chloroform, 
and  all  this  complication,  you  are  tired  and  nervous. 
You  must  not  go  away  to  your  room  alone ;  you  must 
sleep  here  by  me  to-night,  where  we  can  .speak  if  we  do 
not  sleep.  We  shall  need  all  our  nerve  to-morrow." 


138  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

So  they  passed  the  night,  and  exhaustion  gave  Helen 
sound  and  tranquil  sleep. 

While  they  were  dressing  in  the  morning,  the  servant 
brought  a  large  basket  of  loose  flowers,  and  an  enve- 
lope containing  a  small  drawing  and  a  line  from  the 
baroness :  "  Good-morning  to  my  child.  Here  is  one 
of  my  little  sketches.  It  is  our  chateau  at  Hohentauben, 
near  Colmar." 

It  was  a  tablet  of  paper,  of  the  cabinet  size  of  photo- 
graphs, and  the  drawing  was  in  sepia.  It  showed  a 
rocky  height,  standing  at  the  outlet  of  a  small  lake,  and 
looking  in  one  direction  down  a  wooded  ravine  close- 
walled  by  hills;  in  the  other  over  a  small,  peaceful 
lake,  with  sloping  shores,  smooth  and  well-cultivated, 
bounded  by  a  far-off,  misty  range  of  hills.  This  height 
was  crowned  by  an  old  feudal  castle,  its  stern  towers 
and  walls  softened  by  climbing  vines,  and  modernized 
by  piazzas  and  balconies.  A  sail-boat,  in  the  middle 
of  the  lake,  was  the  only  token  of  human  presence  in 
the  picture. 

They  were  still  looking  at  it  when  Alice's  sweet  voice 
was  heard  at  the  door.  Mrs.  Dysart  glanced  at  Helen. 

"  Shall  we  tell  her  about  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Helen.  "She  cannot  be  kept  long  in 
the  dark,  and  I  want  her  verdict.  Come  in,  Alice  ! " 
and  in  she  came,  fresh  and  beautiful  as  the  morning 
itself. 

"  What  are  you  two  about  ?  "  she  said.  "  Oh,  what 
lovely  flowers,- — what  colors  and  what  odors  !  and  what 
a  dear  little  picture,  —  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  I  declare ! " 


BARON   WALDEYER.  139 

"  And  what  do  you  say  to  that  ? "  said  Helen,  pointing 
to  the  open  locket-case  upon  the  table. 

"  Why,  that  is  superb  !     Whose  is  it,  pray  ?  " 

"  It  was  given  to  my  great-grandfather  by  a  king  of 
Spain,"  said  Helen. 

"  Your  great-grandfather  !     Dysart  —  or  Mavrosigi  ?  " 

"  To  my  great-grandfather  Paredes.  Alice,  the  baron- 
ess is  my  mother  !  " 

"  Then  Sinbad  the  Sailor  is  your  father,  I  suppose," 
said  Alice. 

"  It  is  true,  Alice,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  The  baroness 
was  Mr.  Dysart's  wife,  and  is  Helen's  mother." 

The  amazement  of  the  girl  was  so  intense  that  both 
the  ladies  laughed.  This  enraged  her. 

"  And  you  both  seem  so  happy  over  it !  I  think  I 
had  better  go  straight  back  to  New  Brunswick,  where 
they  make  harness  and  buckles  and  oilcloth,  and  things 
that  people  can  understand !  And  what  is  your  name 
now,  Helen  ? " 

"  Helen  Paredes  Dysart,  if  you  please,  Miss  Carroll," 
was  the  answer ;  and  the  dialogue  ended  in  explana- 
tions which  threw  Alice  into  a  state  of  the  highest  ex- 
citement. 

"  Have  you  acknowledged  the  flowers  and  picture, 
Helen  ?  "  said  her  mother. 

Helen  blushed.  "Thank  you,  mother,  for  reminding 
me.  It  is  not  too  late  yet " ;  and  she  sent  a  little  note. 

The  messenger  returned  presently,  with  one  from  the 
baroness  to  Mrs.  Dysart,  in  which  she  begged  permis- 
sion to  invite  herself,  her  children,  and  their  compan- 


140  MANUELA   PARADES. 

ion,  to  a  little  excursion.  "  We  will  bring  you  back 
to  dinner,"  ran  the  note.  "  Our  plan  is  to  go  to  the 
Giessbach,  and  return  in  the  afternoon  boat." 

This  threw  the  party  into  a  state  of  perplexity ;  but 
the  influence  of  Mr.  Dysart's  letter  finally  prevailed, 
and  the  invitation  was  accepted.  Then  the  baroness 
sent  another  little  note  :  "  Mrs.  Dysart  and  family  hav- 
ing kindly  accepted  a  proposal  for  an  excursion  to  the 
Giessbach,  Mme.  la  Baronne  Waldeyer  would  be  further 
gratified  if  the  Messrs.  Audran  would  add  the  pleasure 
of  their  company."  To  which  Mr.  R.  Audran  replied 
that  the  obligations  of  his  correspondence,  after  some 
days'  absence,  would  prevent  his  having  that  privilege  ; 
and  that  Mr.  W.  Audran  accepted  with  pleasure. 

Eleven  o'clock  was  the  hour  named  for  the  start ;  and 
Helen,  who  foresaw  that  her  new  relationship  could  not 
much  longer  be  kept  a  secret,  was  anxious  to  communi- 
cate it  to  Robert  before  leaving.  She  therefore  pro- 
posed to  him  to  walk  down  the  avenue  after  breakfast, 
and  while  walking  told  him  all. 

At  the  hour  appointed  Baron  Waldeyer,  with  the 
utmost  courtesy,  placed  Mrs.  Dysart,  the  baroness,  and 
Helen  in  his  own  carriage,  for  the  short  ride  to  the 
Lake  of  Brienz.  The  other  young  people  went  in  an- 
other carriage. 

The  day  was  perfect,  and  the  baroness  in  the  brightest 
spirits,  full  of  anecdote,  of  humorous  comment  and 
pleasantry ;  but  there  was  no  allusion  to  the  peculiar 
relations  of  the  party.  Crossing  the  lake  in  a  little 
steamer,  they  found  chairs  and  porters  waiting  at  the 


BARON  WALDEYER.  141 

landing,  for  the  use  of  the  ladies ;  but  these  Helen  and 
Alice  declined,  preferring  the  walk.  Walter,  Eugene, 
and  Alice  led  the  way,  Helen  and  the  baron  followed, 
the  elder  ladies  in  their  chairs  came  after. 

The  baron  was  at  first  so  ceremoniously  polite,  so 
profoundly  respectful,  that  Helen  felt  she  must  make 
an  effort  to  put  him  at  his  ease ;  so  she  took  the  burden 
of  the  conversation  on  herself :  "  The  baroness  has 
given  me  a  drawing  of  her  home  near  Colmar  this 
morning.  It  seems  a  very  isolated  place." 

"  It  is  isolated,"  he  replied,  "  but  perhaps  not  so  much 
so  as  the  picture  would  suggest.  The  chateau  is  built 
upon  the  remains  of  an  old  feudal  castle,  and  retains  in 
part  its  form.  Such  castles,  you  know,  were  generally 
placed  on  points  which  commanded  a  wide  prospect 
and  were  difficult  of  approach.  Madame  has  her  ten- 
antry about  her,  the  high-road  from  Munster  to  Colmar 
passes  through  the  ravine,  and  there  are  estates  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  above  and  below." 

"  Is  that  water,  then,  a  river  ?  "  said  Helen. 

"  It  is  an  expansion  of  the  Fecht,  which  looks  like  a 
lake.  Perhaps  it  was  a  lake  once,  before  its  escaping 
waters  opened  the  ravine.  Do  you  not  think  it  a  pic- 
turesque place  ? " 

"  Extremely  so,"  said  Helen.  "  I  remember  that 
country  between  the  Vosges  and  the  Black  Forest  very 
well ;  it  is  extremely  interesting.  How  many  castles 
you  see  from  the  railroad  while  passing  through  the 
valley ! " 

"You  are  right,  mademoiselle.     They  overlook  the 


142  MANUELA  PARADES. 

valley  from  every  point.  That  is  because  it  was  a  great 
highway,  to  which  all  the  Swiss  and  Burgundian  valleys 
converge  or  conduct.  At  one  time  these  castles  were 
the  abode  of  robber  barons  who  lived  upon  the  plunder 
of  the  commerce  which  moved  up  and  down.  But  you 
would  think,  in  looking  at  them  now,  that  they  had 
been  placed  with  the  simple  purpose  of  making  pic- 
turesque and  romantic  effects  in  the  landscape." 

"  Why  is  it,"  said  Helen,  "  that  just  that  region  — 
southern  France,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Rhone,  Provence,  Burgundy,  and  western  Switzerland  — 
always  seems  the  most  interesting  part  of  Europe  ? " 

"  I  suppose  because  it  has  had  so  eventful  a  history, 
has  belonged  to  so  many  different  nations,  and  been  a 
kind  of  debatable  ground  between  them.  There  were 
the  marches,  or  frontiers,  upon  which  all  bordered,  and 
where  they  made  such  frequent  war  upon  each  other. 
There  is  scarcely  a  plain  in  all  that  region  which  has 
not  been  the  scene  of  a  battle ;  scarcely  a  height  which 
is  not  crowned  by  an  oft-time  besieged  fortress.  The 
Dukes  of  Burgundy,  Savoy,  Valois,  Navarre,  and  Conde 
—  the  Capets  and  Bourbons  and  Hapsburghs,  and  I 
don't  know  how  many  more  —  have  contended  about 
the  base  of  the  Vosges  and  on  the  plains  of  Aquitaine. 
These  towers  are  the  chronicles  of  ages,  empires,  and 
religions.  And  this  is  the  land  of  the  troubadours,  of 
the  gai  science^  of  sunlight,  —  unlike  the  cold  and  cloudy 
north,  —  the  land  of  the  fig,  the  olive,  and  the  vine  ;  the 
land  of  Greek  and  Phoenician  colonies  older  than  Rome. 
It  is  the  beautiful  land,  where  mountain  and  valley  and 


BARON  WALDEYER.  143 

plain  and  swift-running  rivers  have  fed  an  unfailing 
stream  of  chivalry  and  poetry." 

"  Voici  un  exemple,"  said  Helen,  smiling. 

"  Voila  une  inspiration,"  said  the  baron,  bowing. 

"And  tell  me,"  said  she,  "how  does  the  baroness 
live  there  ? " 

"  The  most  simple  and  natural  life  you  can  imagine," 
replied  he.  "  I  speak  of  the  lifetime  of  my  brother. 
Both  he  and  she  were  like  Providence  to  the  tenantry, 
who  brought  their  wants,  their  cares,  their  sorrows, 
and  their  quarrels,  and  rehearsed  them  all  in  the 
chateau.  The  mornings  were  always  given  to  the  es- 
tate and  the  gardens,  —  flowers  are  the  passion  of  my 
sister;  the  afternoons  were  passed  in  the  library;  the 
early  evening,  generally,  in  riding,  —  the  baroness  was 
always  a  good  horsewoman  ;  and  later  she  busied  her- 
self with  her  music,  while  my  brother  wrote  or  studied. 
But  the  light  and  life  which  children  bring  was  denied 
them ;  and  since  his  death,  life  for  her  is  heavy  and  sad 
indeed." 

"  And  will  she  always  live  there  ?  "  said  she. 

The  baron  hesitated,  looked  grave,  and  slowly  con- 
inued,  "  My  sister  has  made  me  her  confidant.  I 
.now  her  hopes,  her  wishes.  Mademoiselle  will  pardon 
ne  if  I  say  that  much  depends  upon  herself." 

"  On  me  ?  "  said  Helen.     "  Has  she  said  so  ? " 

"  She  has  said  it,"  answered  the  baron.  "  My  dear 
young  lady,  you  do  not  yet  know  how  passionately  your 
image,  yet  unknown,  has  for  years  been  woven  into  the 
tapestry  of  her  life ;  and  now,  I  am  sure,  it  is  you  who 


144  MANUELA  PARADES. 

hold  in  your  hands  the  shape  and  color  of  her  remain- 
ing days.  Manuela  is  like  no  other  woman.  She  must 
have  a  personal  object,  another  and  superior  self,  domi- 
nating her  life,  and  making  it  serene  and  joyous  by  its 
presence,  or  hopeless  and  desperate  by  its  absence. 
That  was  her  life  with  my  brother ;  that  will  be  her  life, 
henceforth,  with  or  without  you.  If  she  might,  she 
would  adopt  the  language  of  the  maiden  of  Moab ;  she 
would  say  with  Ruth,  'Whither  thou  goest  I  will  go, 
where  thou  lodgest  I  will  lodge,  thy  people  shall  be  my 
people,  and  thy  God  shall  be  my  God.' " 

"  Madame  Waldeyer,"  said  Helen,  "  certainly  has 
greatest  success  in  enlisting  others  in  her  behalf,  and 
great  force  and  skill  in  making  them  sympathize  with 
her  wishes." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  baron  ;  "  her  faculties  are  not  more 
eminent  than  her  command  of  them.  But,  my  dear 
Miss  Dysart,  you  must  allow  me  to  suggest  that  the 
skill  and  the  success  depend  upon  the  fact  that  the  ideas 
commend  themselves.  What  can  be  more  according  to 
the  truth  of  nature  than  that  a  mother  should  desire 
and  seek  her  only  child  ?  Does  not  such  a  search 
instinctively  attract  sympathy  and  aid  from  every  one  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  so,"  said  Helen  thoughtfully,  and  then 
was  silent. 

They  had  reached  the  terrace  which  commands  the 
finest  view  of  the  Giessbach,  springing  from  the  moun- 
tain's brow  a  thousand  feet  above,  in  seven  successive 
cascades,  all  mantled  in  the  richest  foliage,  forever 
freshened  by  the  drifting  spray.  Not  far  off  appeared 


BARON   WALDEYER.  145 

the  hotel,  whose  beds  of  brilliant  flowers,  and  piazzas 
shadowed  with  bright  awnings,  gave  a  human  charm  to 
this  lovely  sylvan  retreat.  There  they  stopped,  while 
the  baroness  and  Mrs.  Dysart  were  borne  along  the 
upward  path  toward  the  house. 

"  Have  you  anything  like  that  in  your  country  ? "  said 
the  baron.  "  I  have  heard,  of  course,  about  your  great 
Niagara,  where  one  inland  sea  drops  down  into  another. 
For  grandeur  that  must  exceed  anything  of  the  kind  in 
the  world ;  but  have  you  these  beautiful  cascades  in 
your  smaller  streams,  like  our  Reichenbich,  Schmadri- 
bach,  Staubbach,  and  this  Giessbach?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Helen  ;  "  we  have  numberless  beau- 
tiful waterfalls  beside  Niagara.  Those  that  I  remem- 
ber most  like  this  are  the  Winooski  at  Marshfield,  the 
Cascadilla  at  Ithaca,  or  the  falls  near  Watkin's  Glen. 
At  their  best,  some  of  them  are  quite  equal  to  this ;  but 
our  cascades  are  generally  things  of  the  seasons,  be- 
cause we  have  spring  and  autumn  floods  which  swell 
them  to  grand  effects ;  but  in  the  midsummer  heats, 
which  is  the  time  when  they  are  oftenest  seen,  the 
streams  are  so  shrunken  that  much  of  their  beauty  is 
lost.  In  Switzerland  the  season  of  travel  coincides 
more  nearly  with  that  when  melting  snows  make  the 
streams  fullest.  With  us  too  the  approaches  to  these 
choice  spots  are  apt  to  be  difficult.  We  cannot  enjoy 
them  leisurely  and  at  ease,  as  here.  That  will  come 
by  and  by." 

"Yes,"  said  the  baron.  "  What  will  not  come  by  and 
by  in  your  wonderful  country,  where  the  capabilities  of 

10 


146  MANUELA   PARADES. 

a  great  continent,  the  culture  of  all  the  best  races,  and 
the  progress  of  the  nineteenth  century  combine  under  the 
sway  of  illimitable  hope  ?  No  land  or  any  age  ever 
moved  toward  empire  and  splendor  at  such  a  rate." 

"  Indeed,  baron,"  said  Helen,  "  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be 
so  recognized.  Have  you  learned  all  this  in  America  ? 
We  know  it,  but  Europeans  think  us  braggarts  if  ever  we 
dare  to  say  what  we  know." 

"  Yes,  I  once  travelled  through  the  United  States,  and 
as  a  republican  I  am  aware  where  our  best  precedents  are 
found,  and  the  examples  which  best  fortify  our  political 
faith.  What  extraordinary  development  your  communal 
system  as  colonies  gave  to  individual  men  I  Even  at  the 
birth  of  your  republic,  you  had  such  builders  of  States  as 
Franklin  and  Hamilton  and  Jefferson.  Of  late  I  have 
especially  endeavored  to  inform  myself  about  the  United 
States,  because  it  may  be  that  I  shall  be  sent  thither." 

"  In  a  diplomatic  capacity  ?  "  said  Helen. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  spoken  of  that  which  is 
yet  so  uncertain,"  said  he  ;  "  but  if  I  go  at  all,  it  would  be 
in  connection  with  some  branch  of  the  public  service." 

"  I  can  believe,"  said  Helen,  "  that  your  interest  and 
your  appreciation  of  our  affairs  would  make  such  a 
choice  a  very  fitting  one.  But,  my  dear  baron,  if  you 
should  go  to  America,  what  would  become  of  Madame 
Waldeyer?" 

"  I  hope  she  would  go  also.  She  has  always  been 
fond  of  travel,  and  has  had  much  experience  of  it. 
My  brother  usually  took  two  seasons  of  absence  in  each 
year,  in  mid-summer  and  in  mid- winter.  In  that  way  she 


BARON   WALDEYER.  147 

has  visited  many  lands,  from  Norway  to  the  Nile  ;  and 
she  has  spoken  lately  of  a  curiosity  to  revisit  her  native 
land,  and  revive  the  memories  of  her  youth." 

Engrossed  in  conversation,  they  had  lost  sight  of  the 
remainder  of  the  party,  who,  as  Eugene  came  running 
back  to  tell  them,  were  at  the  hotel,  awaiting  their 
coming. 

The  young  people  proposed  to  explore  the  path  to  the 
upper  cascades.  Helen  declined,  but  the  baron  went 
with  them.  Their  walk  ended  at  the  grotto  behind  the 
fall,  whence  they  could  see  the  beautiful  green  glade 
below,  and  the  gay  hotel,  and  the  rainbow  on  the 
cloud  of  floating  spray.  Then  they  went  slowly  back 
through  the  shadowed  path,  and  the  baron  caught 
bright  butterflies,  and  gave  Alice  curious  chapters  of 
insect  lore.  When  they  reached  the  hotel  they  found  the 
remnant  of  the  party  in  a  pretty  pavilion  by  themselves, 
and  an  elegant  dejeuner  prepared.  The  baroness,  mean- 
while, had  been  entertaining  her  guests  with  the  story 
of  her  retreat  in  1871,  before  the  invading  Prussians, 
from  Colmar  to  Bale,  —  a  retreat  covered  by  Bour- 
baki's  army,  in  which  the  baron  was  then  second  in 
command.  As  residents  of  Alsace,  they  now  belonged 
to  the  German  empire,  but  as  yet  were  very  imperfectly 
reconstructed.  So  good  was  the  dejeuner  and  so  amus- 
ing was  the  talk,  that  they  nearly  missed  the  return  boat, 
but  at  length,  about  seven,  were  safely  landed  at  Inter- 
laken. 


148  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 


CHAPTER   X. 

MR.    MAXWELL   INTERFERES. 

A  T  Interlaken  Walter  found  a  note  informing  him 
•**  that  Robert  had  been  obliged  to  go  to  Bern,  but 
hoped  to  return  in  two  or  three  days,  and  would  meet 
him  at  Interlaken,  or  follow  wherever  he  might  have  gone. 
If  there  were  no  reason  to  the  contrary,  he  hoped  Wal- 
ter would  continue  in  the  company  of  the  Dysarts. 
Helen  also  found  a  little  note  :  — 

DEAR  Miss  DYSART,  —  It  has  become  necessary  for 
me  to  go  to  Bern.  If  our  Minister  is  there  and  disen- 
gaged, my  business  will  detain  me  but  a  few  hours,  and  I 
shall  hope  to  see  you  again  day  after  to-morrow.  I  regret 
to  delay  so  long  hearing  whatever  you  may  please  to 
communicate  on  the  very  important  matter  of  which  you 
spoke  this  morning.  A  few  days  will  make  it  appear 
how  far  this  discovery  is  to  change  your  life.  It  is  an 
interesting  and  momentous  problem  how  far  a  woman 
with  the  character  and  history  of  the  baroness  will  be 
able  to  win  your  confidence  and  regard.  Of  one  thing 
only  be  certain  :  that,  whatever  your  course  in  the  mat- 
ter may  be,  it  will  certainly  command  the  respect  of  your 
friend,  and  on  all  occasions  your  most  obliged  and  de- 
voted servant, 

ROBERT  AUDRAN. 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  149 

This  note  was  brought  to  Helen  in  Mrs.  Dysart's 
room.  She  read  and  handed  it  to  her  mother. 

"  A  very  proper  note,"  remarked  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  since 
you  have  seen  fit  to  take  Mr.  Audran  into  your  confi- 
dence." 

"  Are  you  surprised  at  that,  mamma  ?  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  could  hardly  do  less." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  is  evident  to  me  that  Mr.  Audran 
neither  understands  nor  appreciates  the  baroness  or  the 
baron.  Certainly,  I  may  say  that  I  have  seldom  met  a 
woman  who  could  make  herself  so  charming  or  so  agree- 
able as  she,  nor  have  I  ever  seen  one  whose  society  you 
seemed  to  enjoy  so  much  as  you  did  hers  this  after- 
noon." 

Helen  rose  and  picked  up  her  letter.  "  Good-night, 
mamma,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  The  baroness  is  very 
charming ;  but  papa  and  I  feel  there  is  no  other  woman 
in  the  world  who  can  step  in  between  us  and  you." 

Her  voice  trembled  and  her  step  faltered  as  she  left 
the  room.  Going  to  her  own  chamber,  she  locked  her- 
self in,  and,  throwing  herself  on  the  bed,  then  and  there 
went  through  with  that  process  of  redistribution,  re- 
arrangement, and  regeneration  of  the  moral  forces 
which  is  known  as  a  good  cry.  Post  nubila  Phoebus ! 
In  half  an  hour  she  rose,  with  regained  serenity,  went 
to  her  mirror,  rearranged  her  hair,  changed  her  ear- 
rings, and  fitted  a  new  tie  of  pretty  lace  to  her  shapely 
throat. 

It  was  still  early,  and  she  began  to  wonder  where 
Alice  could  be.  Going  rather  hesitatingly  down  stairs, 


I$0  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

she  found  the  baron  and  the  baroness  with  the  three 
young  people  seated  at  a  round  table  in  the  "  conversa- 
tion room."  The  baron  had  placed  a  book  for  a  centre, 
and,  with  a  box  of  dominoes  to  represent  corps  (Tannee, 
was  explaining  to  his  absorbed  listeners  the  siege  and 
capitulation  of  Sedan.  Helen  sat  down  also,  and  be- 
came as  much  interested  as  any  of  them.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock  when  the  party  broke  up,  and  not  till  they  had 
extracted  a  promise  from  the  baron  to  explain  at  some 
future  time  the  battle  of  Gravelotte. 

Alice  went  to  Helen's  room  to  compare  notes  upon 
the  events  of  the  day.  She  began  with  the  baroness. 
This  had  been  her  first  good  opportunity  of  observing 
that  lady. 

"I  suppose,"  said  she,  "that  it  is  because  she  has 
never  lived  with  children,  her  own  or  others,  that  she 
talks  to  us  as  if  it  were  needful  to  make  every  word  good. 
She  does  not  speak  with  the  authority  of  rank  or  social 
class.  Some  people,  you  know,  seem  to  feel  that,  because 
they  belong  to  some  special  class  or  school,  there  is  vast 
weight  attaching  to  everything  they  say.  She  has  not  a 
bit  of  that.  She  expects  her  words  to  be  good  for  just 
the  sense  and  truth  that  is  in  them,  and  no  more.  And 
she  is  very  amusing.  She  made  such  fun  of  those  Prus- 
sian soldiers  with  spectacles  !  " 

"  And  you  had  quite  a  little  walk  with  the  baron  this 
afternoon,  had  you  not  ?  "  said  Helen. 

"  Oh,  I  am  afraid  I  shocked  him  dreadfully,"  an- 
swered Alice.  "  I  was  just  enough  frightened  to  be 
saucy ;  and  though  he  did  not  seem  at  all  disconcerted, 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES. 


I  can  see  that  he  does  not  care  for  small  talk,  and  does 
not  invite  it.  He  has  a  great  opinion  of  your  under- 
standing." 

"  Of  mine  ?  "  said  Helen. 

"  Yes,  of  yours.  He  said  you  were  a  person  of  very 
conspicuous  merit,  whatever  that  means.  Does  it  mean 
that  you  showed  off  a  little  ?  " 

"  You  impertinent  child  !  Was  anything  said  about 
the  programme  for  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not.     If  Mr.  Audran  had  been  here,  we 
should  have  had  a  plan  of  some  sort  by  this  time,  of 
course.     He  was  always  providing,  and  disposing  of  our 
time  in  advance.     It  was  very  good  for  us,  no  doubt;. 
but  it  was  a  little  superfluous  of  him." 

"  It  was  very  kind,  I  am  sure,"  said  Helen  warmly. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  perverse  girl,  "  very  kind  ;  and  he 
knew  just  how  kind  it  was,  and  just  how  kind  he  meant 
it  should  be.  He  made  routes  and  plans  and  paths, 
and  all  we  like  sheep  did  walk  in  them." 

"  For  shame,  Alice  !  You  know  you  were  his  most 
outspoken  admirer  thirty-six  hours  ago.  Who  was  it  that 
called  me  cold-hearted,  because  I  said  much  less  than 
you  have  just  said  ?  Who  is  the  fickle  one  now,  I 
wonder?  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  is  bad  of  me,"  said  Alice  ;  "  but, 
oh  dear  !  one  set  of  emotions  all  the  time  is  tiresome. 
You  are  tired  of  variety,  and  I  want  it.  You  '11  marry 
Mr.  Audran,  though,  if  he  asks  you,  won't  you, 
Nelly  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  time  enough  to  answer  you  when  I  have 


152  MANUELA   PARADES. 

answered  him,  Elsie.  But  how  about  the  commodity,  — 
your  own  peculiar  property,  miss  ?  " 

"You  mean  Walter,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  it  will  be  time  enough  to  answer  you 
when  I  have  answered  —  myself.  How  cross  we  are, 
Helen  !  I  don't  know  but  the  high  strain  of  enthusiasm 
was  better,  after  all.  At  any  rate,  I  beg  Mr.  Audran's 
pardon.  It  is  not  everybody  to  whom  we  owe  our  lives, 
certainly.  Good-night,  Angel.  I  will  be  a  better  girl 
to-morrow." 

At  the  breakfast-table  the  following  morning,  Walter 
received  this  telegram  from  his  brother :  — 

Do  not  leave  Interlaken  to-day.  I  return  by  train, 
at  i  P.  M.,  but  start  for  New  York  to-morrow.  You  can 
stay  if  you  like.  Shall  hope  to  see  our  friends  this 
evening.  R.  A. 

They  were  all  at  table  together,  including  the  baron 
and  baroness,  and  Walter  read  the  despatch  aloud. 
Everybody  was  interested.  To  Walter,  of  course,  it 
was  a  deep  and  significant  mystery.  To  the  baron,  the 
baroness,  and  Mrs.  Dysart,  it  brought  a  certain  sense  of 
satisfaction,  for  each  had  privately  divined  that  Mr.  Au- 
dran's influence  was  not  quite  in  harmony  with  their 
wishes.  Helen  was  disturbed,  and  a  dreary  look  lurked 
in  her  deep  brown  eyes.  Alice  first  found  words. 

"  Oh  dear,  how  provoking !  Mr.  Audran  was  going 
to  take  us  on  all  sorts  of  excursions,  and  there  is  nobody 
who  can  do  it  like  him.  Did  n't  he  say  he  meant  to 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  153 

stay  six  weeks  ?  Why  does  n't  he  ?  Can't  you  make 
him,  Walter?" 

"Something  important  must  call  him  back,"  said 
Walter,  "  for  we  had  talked  over  this  trip,  and  I  know 
how  much  he  wanted  to  complete  it.  He  will  be 
awfully  sorry  to  go."  And  the  ingenuous  youth  looked 
straight  at  Helen.  "  But  I  can't  see  now  that  there 
would  be  any  use  in  my  going  with  him.  I  should  only 
have  to  come  back  again  in  September  to  Heidelberg. 
Neither  do  I  know  what  I  shall  do  without  him.  It 
will  be  dreadful  to  lose  him  and  you  all  at  once,  and  to 
wander  about  alone." 

"  Oh,  you  must  n't  do  that,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  You 
must  keep  along  with  us.  Eugene  will  be  ever  so  much 
happier  for  your  company,  and  so  shall  we  all." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Walter  gratefully.  "  Noth- 
ing could  be  more  delightful ;  but  of  course  I  can't 
decide  on  anything  until  I  see  Robert.  Perhaps  he 
may  want  me  to  carry  on  some  business  here  which  he 
has  begun.  I  can't  tell  till  he  comes." 

"  What  time  does  he  get  here  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  I  believe  the  Thun  boat  comes  in  about  half-past 
four." 

"  Is  he  sure  to  come  by  that  route  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Dysart. 

"  I  think  so.  That  is  the  direct  route,  and  much  the 
quickest.  He  will  come  by  the  boat,  I  am  quite  cer- 
tain." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  I  propose 
that  we  go  and  meet  him  at  Thun,  and  have  the  sail  up 
together.  We  can  leave  here  at  one,  I  believe." 


154  MANUELA  PARADES. 

"  That  is  an  excellent  plan,"  said  the  baroness.  "  It 
will  be  a  pleasant  surprise  to  Mr.  Audran  to  see  you 
there,  and  you  must  not  let  us  detain  you." 

"  Won't  you  go  too  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Dysart. 

"Oh  no,"  replied  Madame  Waldeyer.  "We  are  less 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Audran,  and  I  think  he  will  prefer 
to  spend  his  last  day  with  your  family  only.  We  can 
make  our  adieux  this  evening." 

"  Helen,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  I  have  an  idea.  Mr. 
Audran  has  business  with  your  father  in  New  York, 
and  will  take  letters  to  him  and  to  Julia ;  and  as  we 
have  but  four  hours  to  write,  I  think  I  shall  go  up  stairs 
at  once  and  begin  my  budget." 

"  So  will  I.  Papa  and  Julia  will  like  to  hear  all  about 
us,  and  I  want  them  to  know  Mr.  Audran." 

The  explanation  of  Robert's  sudden  change  of  plan 
was  this.  On  his  return  from  the  Furca  excursion,  he 
found  at  Interlaken  this  letter  from  his  partner  in 
Colorado:  — 

FOUNTAIN,  COL.,  June  10. 

FRIEND  AUDRAN,  —  I  guess  this  letter,  which  I  send 
to  Brown,  Shipley,  &  Co.,  will  find  you  in  Switzerland, 
and  anxious,  I  dare  say,  to  hear  the  latest  news  from 
the  ranch. 

Last  week  we  finished  our  round  up  out  on  Chug's 
Creek.  All  the  ranchmen  within  a  hundred  miles 
were  there,  and  more  than  30,000  head  of  cattle  all 
told.  We  branded  2,713  for  our  share.  They  look 
remarkable  fine,  particularly  the  yearlings  and  two-year- 
olds.  Most  every  cow  had  a  calf  by  her,  fat  and  smooth 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  155 

as  seals,  all  of  'em.  We  have  had  much  more  rain  than 
usual.  Far  out  on  the  prairie  the  gama  is  thick  and 
green  ;  there  will  be  a  better  stand  than  was  ever  seen 
before  in  this  country.  The  cattle  won't  have  to  travel 
all  over  creation  next  winter  to  get  their  living ;  and  I 
calculate  it  will  be  safe  to  winter  the  whole  lot,  unless 
the  market  should  be  uncommon  good  this  fall.  I 
made  a  find  the  other  day.  I  was  out  about  ten  miles 
southeast  of  here,  over  towards  the  Chico.  There  is  a 
slough  there.  You  have  seen  it,  I  dare  say.  I  see  lots 
of  cattle  working  in  there  ;  it  was  kind  of  curous,  and  I 
went  speering  round  for  the  reason.  First  off  I  did  n't 
notice  anything  particular,  but  by  and  by  I  noticed  that 
the  last  year's  rushes  was  sort  of  white  round  the  stalk. 
So  I  pulled  up  some,  and  found  a  crust  of  some  sort  on 
the  lower  joints.  I  tasted  it,  —  and  by  the  Great  Horn 
Spoons,  it  was  salt !  There  is  a  big  lot  of  salt  there, 
just  like  it  is  on  them  salines  on  the  Republican  River, 
in  middle  Kansas.  You  better  believe  I  made  tracks 
right  off  for  the  Colorado  Springs  Land  Office,  and 
homesteaded  a  hundred  and  sixty  for  you  and  a  hun- 
dred and  sixty  for  myself;  and  I  made  the  line  run 
right  through  the  middle  of  the  slough.  If  we  have  got 
a  big  salt  privilege  there,  it  will  be  as  good  as  a  thou- 
sand more  cattle.  I  reckon  you  will  want  to  put  down 
some  of  them  drive-wells  as  soon  as  you  come  here. 

I  was  over  to  see  our  next  neighbors,  the  Foxtons. 
They  call  their  place  Maritana  now.  They  are  English, 
you  know,  and  quality  people,  — blamed  smart  fellows, 
anyway,  and  they  have  got  about  2,000  as  likely  critters 


156  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

as  ever  you  did  see.  Well,  they  was  all  worked  up 
about  a  piece  of  news  from  England.  It  seems  they 
are  nephews  of  a  Lord  Thornley,  who  has  a  great  estate 
and  is  a  very  old  man,  —  eighty  odd,  they  say.  This 
lord  he  has  a  son,  to  whom  all  the  estate  would  go,  and 
this  son  is  more  than  fifty,  without  family.  He  had 
been  riding  after  the  hounds,  and  had  been  thrown 
and  broke  his  skull,  and  was  likely  not  to  live,  and  if 
he  did  live  would  n't  be  of  any  count.  That  fetched  in 
these  boys  heirs  to  all  the  property,  —  houses,  lands, 
title,  and  everything.  If  this  crack-brained  fellow  dies, 
their  everlasting  fortune  is  made,  and  it  ain't  likely  they 
stay  here.  They  will  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  sell  out  and 
get  off  that  they  will  drop  their  stand  and  stock  for  any- 
thing they  can  get,  —  first  offer.  I  reckon  we  can  buy 
it  for  less  than  half  what  it  is  worth,  if  we  can  raise 
cash.  It  lies  so  handy  right  alongside,  you  could  lead 
your  big  ditch  round  300  acres  of  it  in  a  week,  and  one 
crop  of  wheat  will  pay  for  it  twice  over.  We  certainly 
can  give  more  for  it  than  anybody  else.  I  am  going 
over  again  next  week,  and  if  things  work  anyways  sud- 
den, I  reckon  I  had  better  telegraph  you  by  cable. 

There  is  another  piece  of  news,  —  may  be  you  '11 
think  it  is  the  biggest  of  the  lot.  You  know  Peedie,  up 
on  the  Cache-la-Poudre,  was  elected  to  Congress  last 
fall.  Well,  he  took  pneumonia  in  May,  and  it  turned 
to  a  hasty  consumption.  They  say  he  can't  continue  a 
week.  If  he  dies,  like  as  not  the  governor  will  order 
a  new  election  in  this  district,  and  they  do  say  our  end 
of  it  ought  to  send  the  man  this  time.  Barnstead,  up 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  157 

to  Colorado  City,  is  jealous  of  the  Springs  people,  and 
he  won't  see  any  one  from  there  put  up.  Huson,  the 
banker  at  Pueblo,  says  you  are  the  best  man,  and  that 
you  will  carry  all  the  Arkansas  Valley  and  Huerfano 
and  Wet  Mountain,  and  sweep  things  generally  south  of 
the  Divide.  The  thing  is  green  yet,  but  there  is  some- 
thing in  it.  You  ought  to  be  here  right  off,  if  it  was  a 
possible  thing.  I  believe  this  is  all,  and  it  is  a  pretty 
fair  show  too.  Yours  faithfully, 

JOHN  D.  MAXWELL. 

Robert  meditated  long  and  deeply  over  this  letter. 
He  might  be  imperatively  needed  at  home  at  any  mo- 
ment. Whatever  he  had  to  do  in  Switzerland  must  be 
done  at  once.  He  had  opened  a  scheme  to  the  Ameri- 
can Minister  for  encouraging  emigration  to  Colorado, 
and  it  was  needful  to  see  him  about  it  before  leaving. 
He  started,  accordingly,  for  Bern,  while  the  party  were 
absent  at  the  Giessbach,  leaving  word  that  any  telegram 
which  might  come  should  be  promptly  forwarded  there. 
He  had  not  been  an  hour  on  the  way  when  the  follow- 
ing message  was  flashed  back  from  Interlaken  to 
Bern  :  — 

FOUNTAIN,  COL.,  July  5. 

ROBERT  AUDRAN,  ESQ.,  —  Maritana,  all  stock,  — 
graded  and  common,  — horses,  house,  land,  everything. 
I  hold  refusal  until  nth  inst.,  at  $22,000,  —  2,000  down 
on  contract,  which  I  can  provide,  10,000  payable  at 
Dysart's,  N.  Y.,  July  24,  balance  on  time  to  suit. 
Prompt  answer  required.  •  J.  D.  MAXWELL. 


158  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

Robert  found  the  message  at  his  hotel.  He  took  the 
night  to  think  over  it,  paid  a  visit  to  the  Minister, 
arranged  another  interview  for  next  morning,  and  spent 
the  evening  in  deep  calculation.  Before  midnight  he 
had  reached  his  conclusions,  and  written  a  telegram  to 
be  sent  early  the  next  morning  :  — 

J.  D.  MAXWELL,  FOUNTAIN,  '  COL.,  U.  S.  A.,  —  Close 
contract  at  once.  Will  be  in  New  York  on  the  24th, 
and  have  the  money  at  Dysart's.  ROBERT  AUDRAN. 

Robert  was  early,  and  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning 
had  already  despatched  his  message.  Then,  in  the 
dewy  dawn,  he  walked  back  along  the  terrace  to  his 
hotel. 

Swifter  than  the  hours  the  message  sped,  and  it  was 
still  dreaming  midnight  when  the  operator  thundered  at 
the  door  of  Maxwell's  cabin  with  his  answer. 

The  second  interview  with  the  Minister  ended,  Rob- 
ert took  the  return  train  at  one  o'clock.  His  thoughts 
now  turned  to  the  friends  he  was  so  soon  to  meet  and 
so  soon  to  leave.  Walter  must  remain,  in  company 
with  the  Dysarts,  perhaps.  How  much  he  would  enjoy 
it !  And  how  was  it  with  himself  ?  He  had  been  so  en- 
grossed since  the  day  before  as  hardly  to  have  thought  of 
Helen.  He  could  forget  her,  then  ?  Oh,  yes,  he  could  ; 
and  would  it  not  be  better  he  should  ?  It  was  certain 
that  this  new  turn  of  his  affairs  must  absorb  him,  and 
for  a  long  time  keep  him  at  a  distance  from  her.  If  he 
must  leave  her,  it  was  well  that  the  call  had  come  thus 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  159 

early  and  in  a  form  so  peremptory  ;  well  that  he  had  not 
been  allowed  to  linger  until  it  might  be  more  painful 
and  less  possible  to  part.  Friends  they  would  always 
be,  whether  together  or  not.  He  would  ask  her  per- 
mission to  write  to  her,  her  promise  to  answer  his  letters. 
This  had  been  a  sudden  passion  on  his  part.  He 
could  not  yet  fully  see  how  it  could  have  any  place  in  the 
settled  requirements  of  his  life :  time  only  could  show. 
His  plans?  Yes,  even  for  her  sake  he  must  pursue 
them.  If  all  the  promise  which  opened  before  him  now 
were  realized,  fortune,  honor,  influence  would  become 
his  to  share  with  her.  Then  he  might  offer  something 
which  would  compare  with  that  which  she  might  give,  — 
the  grace  of  her  beautiful  presence,  the  tribute  of  her 
allegiance,  the  sweetness  of  her  love  and  care.  If  he 
won  her  now,  the  new  happiness  would  bury  him  in 
such  utter  content  that  there  would  be  no  further  mo- 
tive for  effort  and  ambition,  and  so  each  would  be 
cheated  of  the  good  which  should  belong  to  both,  and 
that  would  be  a  reproach  and  a  sadness. 

"  For  of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  are  these,  —  it  might  have  been  1 " 

He  was  wont  to  smile  when  a  verse  came  up  from  the 
chambers  of  memory  to  brighten  or  enforce  the  thought 
of  the  moment ;  but  now  his  smile  perished  with  a  sud- 
den pang  as  he  remembered  that  this  couplet  recorded 
just  such  a  suppressed  and  stifled  impulse  as  he  was 
now  preparing  and  proposing  to  himself ;  and  a  tide  of 
rising  apprehensions  carried  him  quick  and  clear  away 


160  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

from  his  elaborately  constructed  purpose.  Did  he  not 
risk  that  which  he  might  never  regain  ?  Was  not  this 
his  opportunity  ?  Should  he  gain  all  that  he  hoped, 
what  more  was  it  than  dozens  of  men  had  to  offer  ? 
Would  he  ever,  in  the  throng  amid  which  he  must 
henceforth  look  to  find  her,  have  so  clear,  so  fair  a 
field  ?  Had  he  not  saved  her  life  and  won  a  warm 
response,  whose  warmth,  still  glowing,  would  be  chilled 
and  overwhelmed  by  new  events  and  scenes  ?  Heart 
answereth  to  heart :  if  he  had  loved  her  so  much,  was 
she  not,  perhaps,  loving  him  as  well  ?  And  if  it  were 
so,  or  waited  but  for  the  word  to  become  so,  wQuld  it 
not  be  cruel,  unmanly,  selfish,  suicidal,  stupid,  to  remand 
her  fresh  sympathies  to  a  more  convenient  season  ? 
No  other  "  more  convenient  season  "  ever  came  to  King 
Agrippa;  and  for  the  petty  cares  of  his  little  Syrian 
kingdom  he  deferred,  and  lost,  his  soul's  salvation  ! 

If  she  loved  him  at  all,  it  was  for  what  he  was,  not 
for  what  he  had.  All  the  place  and  pelf  he  looked  to 
win  would  count  but  little  in  her  eyes  compared  with 
the  strength  of  his  desire  for  her.  How  could  he  expect 
her  to  trust  a  nature  capable  of  thus  barring  the  gates 
of  a  worldly  prudence  over  its  truest  emotions  ?  Could 
he  trust  himself  ?  Would  love,  thus  stifled,  slighted, 
put  away,  ever  warm  his  own  soul  again  if  he  should  be- 
come immersed  in  cares  and  cattle  and  the  bitter  waters 
of  the  flat  prairie,  and  the  chicanery  of  politics,  pre- 
ferring them  to  the  fresh  feeling  of  a  reviving  soul  ? 
Would  not  his  heart  die  out  in  him,  — hers,  perhaps,  in 
her? 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  l6l 

"  From  pride  we  both  may  borrow, 

To  part  we  both  may  dare ; 
But  the  heart-death  of  to-morrow 
Nor  you  nor  I  can  bear !  " 

The  whistle  of  the  train  as  it  ran  alongside  the  dock 
roused  him  from  his  reverie.  He  grasped  his  satchel 
and  went  on  board  the  boat,  calm  enough  in  manner, 
but  very  disturbed  and  irresolute  at  heart. 

Walter  met  him  at  the  gangway  with  impatient  greet- 
ing. "  Is  there  bad  news,  Robert  ? " 

"  No,  boy,  the  news  is  not  bad,  — perhaps  very  good, 
—  but  important  to  my  affairs  in  Colorado.  We  are 
going  to  double  our  investment  by  buying  another  prop- 
erty. The  opportunity  is  sudden,  accidental,  and  too 
good  to  be  lost.  I  must  go  and  pick  it  up.  How  are 
you  all  ? " 

"  Oh,  we  are  all  right,  and  all  here.  The  ladies  are 
up  stairs,  and  waiting  to  see  you.  Come  on  !  " 

"  This  is  very  kind  of  you,"  said  he,  as  he  advanced 
to  meet  them.  His  voice  faltered  as  he  saw  Helen 
standing  a  little  behind  her  mother,  with  face  rose-flushed, 
and  eyes  which  seemed  to  lighten  with  something  of  the 
feeling  which  trembled  in  his  own. 

"We  count  your  minutes,  now,  Mr.  Audran,"  said 
Mrs.  Dysart,  "  if  indeed  you  must  go  to-morrow." 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  I  must.  This  is  the  7th,  and 
I  must  catch  the  steamer  of  the  i2th  from  Liverpool. 
Except  for  the  desire  of  seeing  you  all  again,  I  should 
have  gone  direct  from  Bern.  It  is  a  very  sudden  in- 
terruption of  the  leisure  and  pleasure  which  I  had  prom- 
ised myself,  but  it  seems  inevitable." 

11 


1 62  MANUELA  PARADES. 

"  You  will  leave  us  your  brother,  then,  I  hope.  We 
will  take  good  care  of  him.  He  belongs  to  us  now, 
and  has  made  his  welcome  secure  for  himself,  and  doubly 
so  as  a  representative  of  you." 

"You  relieve  me  of  a  great  care,  Mrs.  Dysart,  and 
remind  me  how  fortunate  we  have  been  in  meeting  you. 
I  could  not  leave  him  in  company  more  acceptable  to 
both  of  us.  He  at  least  can  remain  with  you  until 
you  shall  go  to  St.  Moritz,  and  I  trust  he  will  behave 
himself  properly.  Walter,  will  you  obey  Mrs.  Dysart? 
Will  you  be  very  polite  to  Miss  Dysart,  very  respectful 
to  Miss  Carroll,  and  get  Eugene  into  no  mischief  ? " 

"  Such  is  my  desire,"  answered  Walter  demurely. 

"  We  will  all  be  mothers  to  him,"  said  Alice.  "  Mrs. 
Dysart  shall  encourage  him,  Helen  shall  advise  him, 
and  I  will  correct  him,  as  occasion  requires.  '  Spare 
the  rod  and  spoil  the  child '  has  been  my  creed  these 
many  years." 

"  And  do  you  think  you  can  bring  me  up  to  suit  you, 
Alice  ? "  said  Walter. 

"  Bring  you  up  ? "  said  Alice,  looking  over  the  tall 
boy ;  "  I  think  I  '11  take  you  down  ! " 

"  Oh,  thanks !  If  you  '11  take  me,  I  '11  go  down  di- 
rectly." 

"  Don't,  Alice  ! "  said  Helen.  "  Mr.  Audran  will  re- 
pent his  kindness  and  send  Walter  away." 

"  He  had  better  let  Walter  repent,  and  stay.  I  only 
wish  that  Mr.  Audran  shall  understand  how  faithful  I 
mean  to  be  to  my  young  charge." 

"  Oh,  be  faithful,  do ! "  said  Walter. 


MR.  MAXWELL  INTERFERES.  163 

Robert  asked  Helen  about  her  arm,  and  she  told  him 
that,  except  for  a  slight  swelling,  and  some  stiffness 
when  she  used  it,  it  was  nearly  well  again. 

They  were  passing  Spitz  just  then,  and  Robert  pointed 
out  to  Helen  the  valley  of  the  Kander.  "When  you 
shall  leave  Interlaken,"  he  said,  "if  you  wish  to  go 
either  to  Zermatt  or  Geneva,  you  will  do  well  to  go 
by  that  route  across  the  Gemmi  to  Leuk  " ;  and  from 
Leuk  onward  he  led  her  willing  fancy  here  and  there 
over  Switzerland,  and  across  the  ocean  to  New  York, 
and  out  into  the  wilds  of  Colorado,  with  a  grace  at 
once  so  airy  and  so  real  that  Helen  was  spell-bound. 
She  made  an  effort  to  resume  control  of  herself  and 
him. 

"  You  have  never  met  my  sister  Julia,  Mr.  Audran  • 
and  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  go  and  see  her  in  New 
York.  We  have  some  letters  for  her  and  my  father,  if 
you  will  take  them,  and  we  hope  they  may  be  able  to  ac- 
knowledge in  some  way  your  great  kindness  and  help- 
fulness to  us.  My  sister  knows  you  already  by  descrip- 
tion, and  will  be  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  I  shall  go,  certainly,"  said  Robert.  "  I  could  not 
lose  such  an  opportunity  to  prolong  my  relation  to  you 
all ;  but  won't  it  be  embarrassing  to  be  investigated 
by  catalogue  ?  How  do  I  know  what  you  may  have 
said  of  me  ? " 

"  I  shall  be  truly  sorry  to  have  you  go,"  said  Helen. 
"  Now  that  I  am  so  strangely  introduced  to  a  new  chap- 
ter of  life,  which  means,  perhaps,  some  interruption  of 
the  old,  it  would  be  a  great  help  to  feel  your  interest, 


164  MANUELA   PARADES. 

and  perhaps  to  be  able  to  ask  your  counsel.  Why,  here 
we  are  at  the  dock." 

On  the  drive  from  Neuhaus,  Mrs.  Dysart  told  Robert 
how  the  baroness  had  entertained  them  the  day  before, 
and  added,  "We  want  your  last  evening  here  to  be  a 
pleasant  one,  so  I  have  asked  her  and  the  baron  to 
dine  with  us  at  seven." 

Robert  bowed  assent,  thinking  at  the  same  time  that 
the  plan  did  not  particularly  commend  itself  to  him  ; 
while  Helen  saw  in  it,  very  plainly,  her  mother's  jeal- 
ousy of  Mr.  Audran's  influence,  and  her  wish  to  prevent 
an  opportunity  for  its  exercise.  "  We  shall  sit  at  table," 
thought  she,  "until  nine,  and  in  the  parlors  until  ten, 
and  there  will  be  no  chance  for  a  quiet  talk."  However, 
it  would  be  hard  to  talk  without  saying  either  too  much 
or  too  little.  Yet  how  should  she  make  the  evening 
memorable  to  him  as  she  hoped  it  might  be  ? 

"  I  will  dress  for  him,"  said  she  to  herself. 


ONE  EVENING.  165 


CHAPTER   XI. 

ONE   EVENING. 

A  SIMILAR  impulse  seemed  to  pervade  the  en- 
**  tire  party ;  and  the  salons  of  the  Bellevue  had 
seldom  seen  so  elegant  a  little  party  as  now  gathered  at 
Mrs.  Dysart's  invitation.  With  the  elder  ladies,  it  was 
but  a  change  from  one  black  dress  to  another  of 
richer  tissue  and  ornamentation ;  but  Alice  was  re- 
splendent in  blue  silk,  with  Valenciennes  overdress, 
and  fluttering  ends  and  knots  of  pale  blue  ;  and  Helen 
wore  a  gown  in  shade  like  still  champagne, — one  of 
Worth's  marvels,  —  with  a  square  corsage,  and  half- 
sleeves  and  train  richly  trimmed  with  lace,  with  orna- 
ments of  pale  pink  coral,  and  a  rose  of  like  hue  on 
either  side  of  her  graceful  head.  The  baroness  was 
fairly  enraptured  with  her. 

Mrs.  Dysart  occupied  the  head  of  the  table,  with  Rob- 
ert on  her  right,  and  the  baroness  on  her  left.  Helen 
sat  next  to  Mr.  Audran,  and  vis-a-vis  with  the  baron  ; 
Walter  with  Alice,  and  Eugene  at  the  foot.  The  menu 
and  the  wines  were  the  best  which  the  hotel  could 
afford. 

Mrs.  Dysart  knew  perfectly  well  how  to  manage  her 
guests,  and  she  drew  the  baroness  and  Robert  into  con- 


1 66  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

versation  upon  New  Mexico  and  Colorado.  The  bar- 
oness was  gentle,  serene,  piquant,  and  singularly  hand- 
some. Robert,  who  saw  the  daughter  in  the  mother, 
could  not  help  being  very  much  attracted  by  her.  The 
baron,  meantime,  was  giving  Helen  a  graphic  sketch  of 
Maximilian's  ill-starred  attempt  at  an  empire,  and  of 
the  history  of  the  Empress  Carlotta,  whom  he  had 
escorted  on  her  return  to  Belgium. 

The  young  people  at  the  other  end  of  the  table  were 
intent  upon  a  programme  of  their  own,  as  presently  ap- 
peared. When  the  cloth  was  removed,  Eugene  rose* 
moved  back  his  chair,  and,  in  the  style  of  the  after- 
dinner  orator,  began,  Alice  rapping  attention  on  the 
table  :  — 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  It  is  known  to  you  that 
we  have  with  us  this  evening,  probably  for  the  last  time, 
our  friend,  Mr.  Robert  Audran.  To  our  great  good  for- 
tune, he  came  to  us  on  the  day  of  our  arrival  in  Switzer- 
land, and  ever  since  has  been  the  chief  promoter  of  our 
pleasure  and  profit.  He  organized  for  most  of  us  a  very 
satisfactory  pilgrimage,  —  made  such  by  his  experience 
in  travel,  his  interesting  conversation,  and  his  care  for 
all  our  wants.  One  of  our  party  owes  to  him  her  rescue 
from  the  most  frightful  danger,  and  her  relief  from  very 
serious  injury  ;  and  none  of  us  will  ever  forget  from  how 
great  a  sorrow  his  forethought  and  skill  saved  us.  We 
had  congratulated  ourselves  that  he  would  remain  with 
us,  to  guide  us  through  many  pleasant  scenes  in  this 
lovely  land ;  but  he  has  received  a  call  which  he  cannot 
disregard,  — 


ONE  EVENING.  1 67 


'  He  sees  a  hand  we  cannot  see, 
Which  beckons  him  away.' 

"  As  the  representative  of  my  mother's  family,  I  have 
thought  it  proper  here  to  tender  to  him  our  warmest 
thanks  for  the  past,  and  our  warmest  wishes  for  the 
safety  and  success  of  his  impending  journey." 

The  beginning  of  this  unexpected  speech  was  received 
with  the  utmost  surprise  by  the  seniors  at  the  other  end 
of  the  table,  and  the  boy  had  a  very  attentive  audience. 
When  he  sat  down  his  resolute  clacque  at  the  end  of  the 
table  applauded  tumultuously,  and  were  joined  with 
right  good-will  by  all  the  others.  Mrs.  Dysart  was 
pleased  with  her  boy;  and  Alice,  who  had  planned  it, 
was  triumphant. 

After  dinner,  Alice  was  asked  to  sing.  She  preluded 
vaguely  for  a  moment,  while  taxing  her  memory  for  a 
song ;  and  then,  in  a  very  pure  and  sympathetic  voice, 
began :  — 

"  I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air ; 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where. 
For  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 

"  I  breathed  a  song  ihto  the  air ; 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where. 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song  ? 

"  Long,  long  afterward,  in  an  oak, 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke. 
And  the  song  that  I  sang,  from  beginning  to  end 
I  found  it  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend." 


1 68  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

She  rose,  and  would  sing  no  more.  The  party  had 
risen,  and  Helen  was  asked  for  a  song,  which,  because 
her  arm  was  not  strong  enough  to  play  the  accompani- 
ment, she  could  not  give ;  then  all  united  in  urging  the 
baroness,  who,  with  remarkable  feeling  and  effect,  sang 
Beranger's  "  Les  Etoiles  qui  filent "  ;  and  as  the  refrain 
of  each  verse  —  "  qui  file,  et  file,  et  disparait  "  —  died 
away,  the  sense  of  separation  and  of  solitude  and  of  the 
mutability  of  all  human  conditions  became  so  general 
that  the  party  made  haste  to  separate. 

Mrs.  Dysart  said  to  Robert,  "  Shall  we  see  you  in  the 
morning  ?  " 

"  No,  madame,  I  shall  be  gone  before  the  breakfast 
hour,  and  must  take  my  leave  to-night." 

"  Adieu,  then,"  said  the  baroness,  giving  Robert  her 
hand.  "  The  baron  and  myself  ought  not  to  trespass 
upon  the  little  time  you  have  to  give  to  these  friends.  I 
feel,  Mr.  Audran,  that  we  shall  meet  somewhere  again, 
and  become  better  known  to  each  other." 

The  baron  added,  "  Should  you  be  in  France,  Major 
Audran,  you  can  always  hear  of  me  at  the  Ministry  of 
War.  Adieu,  et  ban  voyage  /" 

"  We  shall  learn  all  about  you  from  your  brother,  I 
hope,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  and  next  winter  shall  hope  to 
see  you  in  Fifty-seventh  Street.  You  will  have  occasion 
to  see  Mr.  Dysart  on  business,  you  say.  He  and  my 
daughter  are  probably  now  at  Glenwood.  Won't  you 
manage  to  go  up  and  see  them  there  ?  Julia  will  have 
a  thousand  questions  to  ask.  We  will  send  our  let- 
ters to  your  room  to-night.  Mine  are  not  finished, 


ONE  EVENING.  169 

and  I  think  I  must  go  to  them.  How  is  it  with  yours, 
Helen  ? " 

"  Mine  are  done,  mamma.  I  have  not  written  much, 
because  I  want  to  tell  Mr.  Audran  ever  so  many  things 
to  say  to  Julia  for  me.  Will  you  still  give  me  a  little 
time,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dysart  had  hoped  to  carry  Helen  away  with  her ; 
but  she  had  only  rendered  it  necessary  for  herself  to 
go,  —  a  fact  which  the  quick-witted  Alice  at  once  per- 
ceived, as  she  made  up  to  Robert  with  her  parting 
salutations. 

"  Mr.  Audran,  I  have  not  had  the  chance  to  tell 
you  how  sorry  I  am  you  are  going.  I  never  enjoyed 
anything  so  much  in  my  life  as  our  excursion  to  the 
Furca  ;  and  I  hoped  it  was  only  the  prelude  to  other  good 
things  to  come.  I  feel  particularly  bereaved,  because  you 
will  see  all  the  Dysarts  whenever  you  are  in  New  York, 
but  you  will  never  come  to  New  Brunswick,  and  I  shall 
never  see  you  again.  It  is  too  bad  !  Oh  dear,  why  can't 
you  stay  ?  Well,  then,  good-by,  if  good-by  it  must  be. 
I  shall  make  much  of  Walter,  for  lack  of  you.  Good- 
by  ! "  and  she  sailed  away  under  Mrs.  Dysart's  convoy, 
and  Helen  and  Robert  only  were  left  together. 

Each  would  have  been  very  much  disappointed  if  it  had 
not  been  so  ;  and  yet  each  was  a  little  shy  of  the  other. 

Helen  began  the  conversation  :  — 

"  Mr.  Audran,  won't  you  tell  me  what  you  are  going 
to  do,  —  what  peremptory  business  it  is  that  calls  you 
home  ?  I  want  to  know  all  about  it.  You  know  I  cannot 
be  indifferent  to  anything  that  happens  to  you."  ' 


1 70  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Miss  Dysart !  That  is  the  very  best 
solace  I  could  have  in  going  away  from  you  all.  I  should 
like  to  give  you  the  fullest  account  of  my  plans,  if  I 
might.  The  idea  of  being  followed  by  your  interest 
would  always  be  a  help,  a  hope,  and  a  restraint  to 
me." 

"  But  I  don't  want  t6  be  a  restraint,  a  hindrance,  a 
marplot ! " 

"  Yes,  you  do,  from  whatever  is  hard  or  ungentle,  or 
coarse  or  cunning.  There  are  thousands  of  ways,  ap- 
proved of  men,  from  which  woman's  purer  conscience  and 
finer  sense  recoil.  It  is  from  such  that  your  memory, 
next  to  your  presence,  will  keep  me." 

"  Well,  I  want  quite  as  much  from  you.  There  are 
thousands  of  ways  into  which  women  are  forced,  —  which 
are  vain,  poor,  paltry  !  The  good  we  do  is  so  overlaid 
with  frippery  and  ostentation,  we  are  so  flattered  and 
fettered  and  silenced,  and  so  misunderstood  and  con- 
demned if  we  break  away  from  conventions,  that  it  is 
no  wonder  we  appeal  to  broader  views  and  more  can- 
did, more  intelligent  judgment,  when  we  find  them.  May 
I  begin  now  with  what  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the 
baroness  ? " 

"  Pray  do,"  said  Robert.  "  I  have  been  speculating 
not  a  little  about  it." 

"  Well,  then,  she  is  not  a  common  woman,  as  I  need 
hardly  say.  Her  features  and  her  expression  are  evi- 
dence of  that.  A  vicious  or  shallow  life  of  fifty  years 
•will  leave  traces  on  expression  and  manner  ;  but  she  is 
as  fresh,  as  full  of  enthusiasm  and  sentiment,  as  a  girl ; 


ONE  EVENING.  1 71 

and  her  thoughts  range  over  wide  areas,  and  strike  down 
to  the  roots  of  things.  You  may  think  it  strange  that  I 
should  say  so  ;  but  I  am  sure  they  are  governed  by  a  con- 
science, peculiar,  perhaps,  but  controlling.  And  though 
she  is  a  thorough  woman  in  her  nature,  she  is  a  man  in 
her  methods.  She  left  my  father  because,  unreasonable 
in  her  demands  upon  him,  she  felt  injured  by  what  she 
fancied  to  be  neglect  and  unkindness.  Her  mind  was 
doubtless  also  disturbed  by  physical  disease.  It  was  an 
awful  wrong,  but  I  do  not  think  she  was  fully  responsible 
for  it ;  and  now  it  is  her  great  wish  to  undo  this  error, 
so  far  as  is  possible,  and  to  solace  her  punishment  of 
isolation  by  attaching  me  to  herself. 

For  my  own  part,  in  some  reviews  of  the  matter,  I 
have  wished  that  I  had  never  met  her.  I  was  content 
with  the  friends  I  had  ;  and  they  were  content  with  me. 
But  now  it  is  not  quite  so.  Mrs.  Dysart  has  been  to  me 
all  that  a  mother  should  be ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  if  she  sees  some  aspects  of  the  affair  in  which 
my  adhesion  to  the  baroness  would  benefit  her  own 
children.  Moreover,  she  is  not  at  ease  in  repelling  her ; 
for  both  she  and  my  father  are  in  her  power.  If  she 
chooses  to  do  so,  she  can  poison  their  lives  with  a 
grievous  scandal,  and,  if  provoked  to  reprisals,  she 
might  impoverish  the  family  as  well.  I  cannot  tell  you 
with  what  sadness  I  see  the  ties  which  have  bound  me 
to  my  family  relaxing  and  dissolving.  I  have  the  for- 
lorn feeling  of  being  somehow  an  interloper  where  I 
have  always  been  first  in  privilege  and  first  in  influence. 

What  shall  I  do,  Mr.  Audran  ?     My  parents  loosen 


172  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

the  moorings  of  my  life,  the  baroness  pulls  me  out  into 
the  stream.  I  cannot  force  them  to  give  me  the  first 
place  in  their  hearts,  and  I  am  not  yet  ready  to  give  to 
any  others  the  first  place  in  mine.  With  all  the  excuse 
which  we  may  find  for  the  baroness's  error,  the  stigma 
of  sin  and  shame  remains  with  her;  and  if  I  openly 
condone  it,  I  take  some  shadow  of  that  stain  upon  my- 
self. I  must  inculpate  my  father,  whom  I  have  always 
revered,  if  I  accept  her  defence  of  her  course  toward 
him.  I  have  no  desire  to  leave  my  old  life,  to  give  up 
whatever  I  have  gathered,  and  become  at  home  in.  to 
try  new  methods  and  a  new  country;  and  yet  I  do  love 
the  baroness,  —  there  are  so  many  things  about  her 
which  are  congenial  to  me;  and  there  is  no  telling 
how  great  the  influence  of  such  a  desire  as  hers  may 
have  upon  its  object.  Indeed,  it  seems  as  though  her 
motherly  feeling,  repressed  for  nearly  thirty  years,  had 
been  accumulating  all  that  time,  so  intense  and  un- 
compromising is  it  now,  when  it  first  finds  opportunity 
for  expression." 

"  What  does  your  father  say,  Helen  ? "  asked  Robert. 

"  He  says  —  and  there  is  certainly  force  in  it  —  that 
the  logic  of  events  is  against  her ;  that  her  claim  on  my 
life,  however  much  it  might  have  affected  my  earlier 
years,  cannot  now  control  them  ;  and  that,  although 
blinded  by  the  eagerness  of  her  purpose  she  expects 
or  hopes  to  realize  a  great-deal  from  it,  yet  she  can  have 
no  more  of  me  than  she  earns,  so  to  speak,  —  and  what 
she  earns  I  shall  readily  give,  —  and  that  by  and  by  she 
will  see  this,  which  now  her  vehement  nature  overlooks ; 


ONE  EVENING.  1/3 

that,  if  soothed  by  compliance,  she  will  become  reasona- 
ble and  tractable,  and  will  yield  to  the  force  of  circum- 
stances ;  but  that,  if  thwarted  and  roused,  she  may  be 
able  to  make  us  all  very  unhappy,  and  set  us  and  herself 
wrong  with  the  world." 

"And  what  does  this  temporary  compliance  involve?" 
said  Robert. 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  as  yet,"  she  answered.  "  Probably 
I  should  do  as  she  wishes  for  a  while,  until  she  finds  how 
far  my  interests  suit  with  hers,  and  when  they  conflict 
there  will  be  no  conflict,  father  thinks^  if  she  is  really 
attached  to  me  ;  and,  if  she  is  not,  then  the  force  of  her 
claim  will  be  broken,  and  it  can  be  resisted.  My  father 
will  not  see  me  sacrificed  to  her,  if  it  comes  to  that.  And, 
for  me,  it  comes  to  this  :  Mrs.  Dysart  has  been  all  that  a 
mother  need  be  to  me,  from  my  cradle.  If  it  is  in  my 
power  to  avert  from  her  and  her  children  a  scandal,  — 
the  scandal  that  she  is  not  my  father's  wife,  and  that  her 
marriage  to  a  man  whose  former  wife  was  living,  un- 
divorced,  is  not  legal ;  if  her  children  are" thus  wronged, 
and  their  fortune  imperilled  because  of  me,  and  I  can 
avert  both  scandal  and  peril,  and  my  father  bids  me  do 
it,  then  I  must  do  it.  I  should  be  an  unfilial  ingrate  if 
I  did  not." 

"  Well,"  said  Robert,  "  don't  you  see  what  the  baroness 
is  preparing  for  you  ?  It  is  clear  enough  to  my  eyes. 
She  will  fix  you  in  her  sphere  forever,  if  she  can,  by  mar- 
rying you  to  the  baron." 

Helen  smiled.  "  Will-he,  nil-he,  —  will-I,  nil-I,  —  with- 
out giving  either  of  us  a  choice  in  that  matter  ? " 


174  MANUELA  PARADES. 

"  You,  at  least,  shall  have  another  choice  —  Helen  ! 
— there  is  no  other  way  for  me.  I  did  not  mean  to 
ask  this  of  you  now.  My  regard  for  you  is  so  great 
that  I  would  not  have  you  decide  the  most  impor- 
tant question  of  life  upon  any  insufficient  knowledge. 
If  I  have  ever  allowed  myself  to  dream  that  you 
might  sometime  incline  to  me  with  the  whole  breadth 
of  your  understanding  and  the  whole  force  of  that 
wonderful  soul,  it  was  a  vision  so  sweet,  so  flatter- 
ing, that  I  would  not  risk  any  premature  attempt  to 
realize  it. 

"  I  am  inextricably  entangled  in  a  life  which  I  scarcely 
dare  ask  that  you  will  share.  My  fortune,  my  success, 
is  in  the  future,  and  therefore  uncertain.  I  have  neither 
name  nor  place  nor  leisure  nor  pleasure  to  offer  you ; 
and  I  was  going  away,  hoping  only  that  I  might  have 
left  upon  your  nature  a  trace  something  like  as  broad 
and  deep  as  that  which  you  have  left  on  mine.  If  that 
were  so,  then,  despite  our  separation,  fancy  and  sym- 
pathy would  grow  into  confidence,  and  consent  would 
become  covenant. 

"  But  now  you  are  in  extremity.  The  life  you  were 
content  to  lead  closes  upon  you ;  a  life  which,  it  may 
be  you  shrink  from,  compels  you.  I  cannot  leave  the 
woman  who  is  more  to  me  than  any  other  woman  ever 
was,  to  float,  to  wander,  to  be  driven  by  the  will  of 
others,  if  she  will  risk  my  faith  and  my  fortune.  Dear, 
delightful  Helen,  what  say  you  ?  " 

He  was  standing  before  her  chair,  had  taken  her  un- 
resisting hand,  and  was  gazing  down  on  her.  And  still 


ONE  EVENING. 


she  sat  with  drooping  head.  He  waited  for  a  response ; 
it  did  not  come. 

"  Have  you  no  answer  for  me,  Helen  ? " 

She  tightened  her  grasp  upon  his  hand  as  she  lifted 
up  her  clear  brown  eyes,  full  of  grace  and  truth.  "  Yes," 
said  she,  "  I  have  an  answer,  if  I  can  ever  find  the  right 
words  for  it.  There  are  some  things  I  do  know,  Mr. 
Audran,  and  there  are  some  things  I  don't  know.  I 
know  that  I  am,  as  I  ought  to  be,  most  proud  and  happy 
to  hear  these  words  from  you.  They  are  the  most  living 
words  of  life  to  me,  for  they  tell  me  of  the  place  I  have 
in  the  thoughts  of  the  man  whom  I  like  better  than  I 
like  any  other  man.  I  do  know  that  if,  against  your 
purpose  and  against  your  judgment,  these  words  have 
been  forced  from  you  now,  —  if  you  have  sacrificed  the 
convictions  with  which  you  came  here  this  evening,  — 
it  is  for  my  sake  :  you  give  them  up  to  stand  between 
me  and  doubt  and  sorrow  and  chagrin.  I  take  it  for 
the  best  proof  which  the  time  could  offer  of  your  faith 
in  me,  and  the  best  assurance  that  the  regard  which  I 
have  given  and  shall  always  give  to  you  has  been  most 
worthily  placed.  I  am  better  pleased  with  you  than 
ever  I  was  before,  —  and  that  was  not  necessary."  A 
tear  trembled  in  her  eyes  as  she  said  it. 

"  Now  you  know  what  I  think  of  you,  and  are  pre- 
pared to  hear  me  say  that  I  cannot  take  your  pledge, 
and  I  cannot  give  you  mine. 

"  The  reasons  which  you  give  for  the  conclusions 
which  you  have  reached  were  good.  You  have  said 
that  you  wanted  me  to  choose  you,  if  at  all,  with  the 


176  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

whole  breadth  of  my  understanding  and  the  whole  force 
of  my  feeling.  And  I  do  not  want  less.  If  you  should 
ever  be  my  husband,  and  I  should  need  your  compas- 
sion and  protection,  I  know  I  should  have  them ;  but 
you  must  not  offer  to  marry  me  to  save  me,  at  least,  not 
from  the  ordinary  trials  of  life.  You  have  said  that 
your  undertaking  is  large,  uncertain,  anxious,  and  ought 
to  have  your  undistracted  thought.  Whatever  you  want 
for  yourself,  I  want  for  you,  and  I  will  not  have  you 
fettered  and  compromised  now.  These  are  the  reasons 
why  I  will  not  take  your  pledge.  And  the  reason  why 
I  cannot  give  you  mine  is  that  I  never  mean  to  marry 
any  man  until  I  am  quite  sure  in  my  own  mind  that  I 
can  make  him  happy  and  that  he  can  make  me  so. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  sir ; 
and  I  have  waited  a  long  time  for  such  a  man.  Sup- 
posing that  he  has  at  length  come  along,  found  me,  and 
sought  me,  he  never  would  believe  I  had  been  coy  all 
my  days  if  I  could  be  had  for  the  first  asking,  on  a 
week's  acquaintance.  The  very  reason  which  has  made 
you  speak  what  you  did  not  mean  to  say  is  a  reason  why 
I  should  appeal  from  Philip  excited  to  Philip  sedate. 

"  I  am  in  difficulty.  There  are  ties  of  blood,  of  nur- 
ture, of  obligation,  —  there  are  anxieties,  fears,  and 
hopes,  —  which  centre  around  me,  and  I  must  get  my 
bearings  toward  them.  I  must  not  pledge  myself  now, 
if  by  so  doing  I  impose  difficulties  upon  others.  I  can- 
not take  myself  out  of  the  field  and  leave  them  involved. 
However  difficult  and  precarious  the  adjustment  may  be, 
I  am  sure  it  cannot  well  be  made  without  me.  I  must 


ONE  EVENING.  1 77 


not  evade  or  desert  the  issue  of  which  I  am  the  cause. 
If  I  did,  and  ill  should  come  of  it,  with  what  face  could 
I  return  to  my  father's  house,  or  how  present  there  a 
man  who  had  led  me  to  desert  it  when  most  it  needed 
my  help  ? 

"  No ;  home  shall  not  be  clouded  or  compromised  by 
act  of  mine,  or  for  my  sake ;  nor  will  I  carry  a  cloud 
into  any  man's  house.  These  are  the  reasons  why  I 
cannot  give  you  my  pledge.  So,  Robert,  go  away  now. 
We  are  both  free.  Time  will  show  whether  there  is  to 
be  any  other  tie  between  us  than  those  of  friendship 
and  esteem."  She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  took  his  two 
hands  in  hers.  "  Do  not  think  I  can  ever  forget  how 
these  two  hands  once  lifted  me  out  of  the  abyss  of  a 
horrible  death,  and  have  to-night  been  stretched  out  to 
shield  me  from  all  that  may  annoy  and  trouble.  Brave 
hands,  kind  hands,  clean  hands!  "  And  she  lifted  them 
to  her  lips  and  kissed  them. 

It  was  the  impulse  of  an  instant,  and  the  arms  which 
she  had  dropped  were  just  ready  to  close  around  her 
shoulders,  when  her  own  white  palm  was  pressed  firmly 
against  Robert's  chest. 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  she.  "  Mr.  Audran  forgets  himself  — 
he  forgets  what  I  have  said,  and  I  must  go  from  him  "  ; 
and  her  look  of  fond  reproach  staggered  and  stayed 
him. 

"  Don't  go,  Helen  !  "  he  said  huskily.  "  You  are  so 
pitilessly  sweet !  "  He  closed  his  repulsed  hands  over 
his  burning  eyes  a  moment,  then,  dropping  them,  he 
added,  "  I  had  forgotten  myself ;  but  you  don't  know 

12 


1/8  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

how  hard  it  is  to  stand  face  to  face  and  hand  in  hand 
with  you,  and  not  to  kiss  you,  and  not  to  make  you  my 
own,  for  one  moment  at  least.  I  am  tired  of  the  strug- 
gle, Helen,  —  I  am  tired  of  my  self-control, —  I  am  tired 
of  yours ! " 

"Then  I  certainly  shall  go,"  said  she,  "and  you  cer- 
tainly will  not  hinder.  But  you  are  not  tired,  Robert, 
and  I  am  not  afraid  of  this  untimely  fondness.  You 
know  how  to  keep  your  esteem  for  me  and  for  yourself 
clear  of  the  spell  of  a  passing  emotion.  When  you  have 
cleared  your  face  and  made  your  voice  smooth  you  may 
kiss  my  hands,  too,  and  say  good-by;  and  you  may 
come  again,  as  soon  and  as  often  as  you  like." 

"  May  I  write  to  you,  Helen  ? " 

"Certainly,"  said  she  ;  "you  cannot  tell  me  about  your 
plans  to-night,  and  I  must  know  what  they  are  and  how 
they  prosper." 

"Well,  then,  Helen,  good-by,  good-by!  You  have 
done  with  me  just  what  you  would." 

He  kissed  her  hands  with  a  long  kiss,  and  once  again 
and  again  as  they  parted  at  the  door. 

He  went  to  his  room  and  she  to  hers.  As  she  let 
down  her  soft  and  rippling  hair,  she  murmured  with 
Thekla,  — 

"  Du  Heilige,  ruf e  dein  Kind  zuriick ! 
Ich  habe  genossen  das  irdische  Gliick, 
Ich  habe  gelebt  und  geliebet  1 " 


A    CHANGE   OF  SCENE. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

A    CHANGE    OF    SCENE. 

the  morning  of  the  8th  of  July  Mr.  Audran 
left  Interlaken ;  on  the  morning  of  the  9th  he 
was  picking  his  way  along  the  Rue  Vivienne  toward  the 
shop  of  a  famous  Parisian  lapidary,  to  whom  he  exhib- 
ited a  certain  oval  pebble. 

The  man  ground  a  facet  on  one  end,  and  said,  "  This 
is  some  kind  of  close-grained  flint.  It  will  bear  a  high 
polish,  but  may  flaw  in  working.  It  has  no  commercial 
value,  but  is  curious,  nevertheless,  for  it  is  divided  length- 
wise through  the  middle  by  a  layer  of  very  pure  white, 
of  the  same  grain  and  about  five  millimetres  thick." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  it,"  said  Robert. 

"You  can  return,  then,  in  an  hour;  I  will  cut  it 
through  in  that  time." 

When  Robert  came  back  the  stone  lay  in  halves,  — 
one  elliptical  surface  black,  the  other  snow-white,  and 
both  as  smooth  as  glass.  Robert  made  a  little  sketch 
of  an  ornament  and  gave  it  to  the  man,  with  Walter's 
address,  in  care  of  the  American  consul  at  Geneva. 

On  the  evening  of  the  nth  he  was  on  board  the 
White  Star  steamer  at  Liverpool,  and  on  the  evening  of 
the  zist  at  the  Hoffman  House  in  New  York. 


180  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

When  Mr.  Dysart  entered  his  office  the  next  morning 
he  found  a  package  of  letters  on  his  desk  and  Mr.  R.  Au- 
dran's  card,  announcing  that  he  would  call  at  any  hour 
Mr.  Dysart  might  appoint.  Mr.  Dysart  immediately  tele- 
graphed an  invitation  to  dine  with  him  at  Delmonico's 
at  3  P.  M.,  and  accompany  him  to  Glenwood  for  the 
night,  after  which  he  sent  one  of  his  clerks  up  the  river 
with  the  letters  which  Mr.  Audran  had  brought,  and  a 
note  to  Julia,  informing  her  that  he  should  bring  Robert 
with  him. 

At  three  o'clock  they  met.  "  Mr.  Audran,"  said  the 
host,  as  he  unfolded  his  napkin,  "  it  vras  a  very  great 
surprise  to  me  to  get  your  card  this  morning.  It  is  only 
three  or  four  days  since  the  arrival  of  our  last  letters,  in 
which  we  were  told  that  you  were  about  starting  on  some 
excursion  from  Lucerne,  —  and  here  you  are !  I  hope 
no  unpleasant  occurrence  has  brought  you  home." 

Robert  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  He  was  look- 
ing for  a  likeness  between  the  father  and  his  daughter. 
Mr.  Dysart  was  tall,  very  erect,  of  large  frame,  some- 
what spare.  His  fresh  face  was  cleanly  shaven  except 
for  a  long  white  mustache,  and  his  deep-set  black  eyes 
were  shaded  by  very  black  eyebrows.  He  was  fault- 
lessly dressed,  as  a  man  of  thirty-five  might  dress ;  and 
indeed  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  de- 
cide whether  he  were  an  old  man  at  forty  or  a  very  young 
man  at  sixty. 

"  No,"  said  Robert,  "  it  was  a  favorable  opening  in 
my  own  affairs  that  brought  me  home.  My  partner  and 
I  are  going  to  buy  more  property  and  make  payment  on 


A    CHANGE   OF  SCENE.  l8l 

the  24th,  through  your  house.  I  assure  you  I  was  very 
sorry  to  leave  Switzerland  so  abruptly  as  I  did  j  but  the 
matter  developed  suddenly,  and  my  partner  telegraphed 
me  to  be  in  New  York  to  make  this  settlement  of  the 
24th." 

"I  am  very  glad  that  you  met  Mrs.  Dysart  and  Helen 
and  Eugene.  They  say  that  you  saved  Helen  from 
a  very  great  danger,  —  some  breaking  of  a  bridge, 
was  it?" 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  Robert.  "  Miss  Dysart  had  sepa- 
rated from  the.  rest  of  the  party  and  ventured  upon  a 
timber  which  overhung  a  deep  and  rocky  basin.  A  log 
was  thrown  from  above  over  the  fall,  and  struck  and 
dislodged  that  on  which  Miss  Dysart  was  standing.  I 
happened  to  reach  her  in  time  to  lift  her  off  before  she 
fell  with  it.  She  suffered  no  injury  beyond  a  disloca- 
tion of  the  left  shoulder,  which  was  reduced  on  the 
spot,  and  had  nearly  ceased  to  trouble  her  when  I  left." 

"  And  it  is  now  a  fortnight  since  you  left?  "  said  Mr. 
Dysart. 

"  Yes ;  I  left  on  the  8th.  It  was  two  weeks  last 
evening  since  Mrs.  Dysart  gave  us  a  dinner  on  the  eve 
of  my  departure." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "she  wrote  about  that  din- 
ner. Eugene  was  master  of  ceremonies,  I  believe.  I 
must  hear  more  about  it,  and  so  must  Julia.  But  here 
comes  our  soup.  We  will,  if  you  please,  keep  your  story 
for  the  evening  at  Glenwood ;  and  now  tell  me  if  I  can 
serve  you  in  this  business  of  yours." 

"Yes,"  said  Robert,  "I  think  you  may.     I  have  to 


1 82  MANUELA   PARADES. 

raise  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  the  collateral  which  I 
offer  is  the  railroad  bonds  which  we  discussed  when  I 
was  here  some  weeks  since.  I  have  enough  of  those, 
probably, —  fifteen.  Shall  I  have  any  trouble  in  effect- 
ing a  loan  ? " 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern  about  it,  my  dear  sir.  We 
shall  be  very  ready  to  hold  your  collateral ;  but  if  you 
will  take  a  line  from  me  to  the  Trust  Company,  they 
will  give  you  money  at  a  lower  rate.  The  thing  can  be 
done  in  fifteen  minutes,  and  you  will  only  have  to  draw 
upon  them  for  the  amount." 

"  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you,"  said  Robert. 

"  Don't  mention  it.  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of 
you  in  my  turn.  You  remember  those  mining  men 
about  whom  you  cautioned  me,  —  Mohler  and  David. 
Your  caution  was  very  just ;  I  wish  I  might  have  had 
it  before  I  committed  myself  to  them.  They  are  giving 
me  trouble,  and  I  want  to  get,  through  you,  some  more 
information  about  them  and  their  operations." 

The  matter  which  Mr.  Dysart  thus  mentioned  requires 
a  brief  explanation.  About  a  year  before  the  date  of 
our  story,  two  miners,  by  name  Mohler  and  David,  had 
found  a  very  promising  lode  of  galena,  having  large 
quantities  of  silver,  in  the  mountains  near  Mr.  Audran's 
ranch.  To  the  development  of  it  they  gave  months  of 
labor  and  a  very  considerable  amount  of  money,  —  all 
that  they  could  command  ;  and  they  had  prospered  to 
such  a  degree  that  their  mine  was  clearly  shown  to  be 
one  capable  of  being  worked  to  fair  profit  by  the  aid  of 
large  capital,  but  which,  managed  jn  a  smaller  way,  would 


A    CHANGE   OF  SCEXE.  183 

hardly  pay.  There  was,  however,  a  strong  prospect  of 
soon  reaching  a  body  of  much  richer  ore  if  they  could 
obtain  means  to  continue  the  work.  They  had  therefore 
employed  some  experts,  who  were  at  the  time  investigat- 
ing other  mines  in  the  interest  of  New  York  capitalists, 
to  examine  and  report  upon  this.  The  opinion  of  the 
experts  confirmed  their  hopes,  and  the  outline  and  ma- 
terials for  a  detailed  report,  to  be  made  up  when  the 
surveyors  should  return  to  New  York,  were  obtained. 
Provided  with  these  notes,  and  specimens,  maps,  and 
plans  of  the  mine,  Mohler  had  gone  to  New  York  to 
secure  the  necessary  money.  He  had  been  directed 
to  Mr.  Dysart,  as  a  banker  whose  knowledge  of  mining 
would  prepare  him  to  deal  intelligently  with  the  matter. 
Mr.  Dysart  had  at  first  refused  to  take  any  interest  in 
the  affair,  but  being  prevailed  upon  to  read  the  notes  of 
the  engineers,  was  so  far  impressed  by  them  as  to  call 
upon  them  at  their  New  York  office,  and  from  their 
statements  in  detail  had  become  convinced  that  there 
was  good  promise  of  profit  in  the  mine.  The  miners 
were  so  intent  on  going  on  with  their  work  that  they 
offered  Mr.  Dysart  a  controlling  interest  in  the  property 
for  a  sum  considerably  less  than  they  themselves  had 
already  expended.  It  was  a  very  speculative  operation 
for  Mr.  Dysart,  and  the  terms  were  by  no  means  excep- 
tionally hard  upon  the  miners.  They  had  delivered  the 
maps  and  plans,  the  records  of  location,  and  the  articles 
of  agreement,  and  had  received  an  advance  of  money, 
and  Mohler  was  about  to  leave  New  York  to  return  to 
Colorado,  when  he  happened  to  meet  Mr.  Audran,  then 


184  MANUELA   PARADES. 

just  starting  for  Europe,  and  had  referred  Mr.  Dysart 
to  him  as  one  acquainted  with  the  country  and  them- 
selves. 

Robert  had  confirmed  many  points  of  their  story,  and 
given  Mr.  Dysart  much  valuable  information ;  but  had 
felt  obliged  to  state  that,  though  he  knew  nothing  against 
Mohler  and  David,  he  had  been  prejudiced  against 
them  because  they  had  taken  into  their  employ  and,  as 
reported,  had  associated  with  themselves  in  business  a 
man  whom  Robert  had  driven  off  from  his  own  place  as 
a  thorough  rascal. 

This  man — Jim  Dunphy — was  a  native  of  New  York, 
a  wharf-rat  as  a  boy,  a  bounty-jumper  during  the  war ; 
and,  when  New  York  had  become  too  hot  to  hold  him, 
had  gone  to  the  mining  regions  of  the  West,  working 
sometimes  in  the  gulches,  but  generally  hanging  about 
the  temporary  termini  of  advancing  railroads.  The  vigi- 
lance committees  of  Kearney,  Julesburg,  and  Cheyenne 
knew  Jim  Dunphy  well.  He  had  been  one  of  the  ter- 
rors of  Denver  and  Black  Hawk  ;  and  when  driven  away 
in  turn  from  each,  had  worked  his  way  down  to  Mr. 
Audran's  ranch,  and  plundered  his  simple  herdmen  at 
cards.  Robert  had  found  him  out,  compelled  him  to 
restore  his  plunder  and  to  quit  the  neighborhood.  He 
went  off  vowing  vengeance,  and  when  next  heard  from, 
it  was  as  employed  by  and  interested  with  Mohler  and 
David  in  their  mine.  Like  master,  like  man,  Robert 
fancied ;  so  he  warned  Mr.  Dysart  not  to  trust  too 
much  to  the  honesty  of  Mohler  and  David. 

During  Robert's  absence,  with  the  aid  of  Mr.  Dysart's 


A    CHANGE   OF  SCENE.  185 

capital,  the  miners  had  reached  the  expected  deposit  of 
rich  ore,  and  now  bitterly  repented  of  their  contract  to 
deliver  to  Mr.  Dysart  the  larger  part  of  that  which  now 
appeared  to  them  a  veritable  bonanza.  How  to  get  out 
of  this  obligation  was  the  theme  of  endless  scheming. 
They  began  by  attempting  to  weary  and  disgust  Mr. 
Dysart  with  his  venture  by  sending  frequent  reports  of 
difficulties  and  disappointments.  They  learned  that  the 
deeds  of  sale  had  not  as  yet  been  received  for  record 
in  the  office  of  the  clerk  of  El  Paso  County ;  and  just 
before  Robert's  return  to  New  York,  they  had  sent 
their  associate,  Dunphy,  to  New  York  to  carry  out  this 
programme.  He  was  to  give  Mr.  Dysart  a  discouraging 
report  of  the  work,  to  tempt  him  with  the  offer  of  the 
return  of  a  portion  of  his  money,  and  cautiously  to  raise 
this  bid  until  convinced  that  no  compromise  was  possi- 
ble and  the  deeds  would  not  be  restored.  In  this  event, 
Dunphy  said,  he  would  be,  well  —  forever  wretched  —  if 
he  did  n't  have  'em  anyhow. 

He  had  learned  that  Robert  was  to  buy  the  Maritana 
estate,  and  to  that  end  would  be  at  Mr.  Dysart's  office 
on  the  24th  of  July.  He  reasoned  that,  as  Robert  lived 
so  near  and  was  so  able  a  man,  Mr.  Dysart  would  natu- 
rally wish  to  gather  information  from  or  through  him, 
and  perhaps  to  constitute  him  his  agent  or  representa- 
tive. 

Dunphy  arrived  in  New  York  on  the  same  day  with 
Robert,  and  Mr.  Dysart  received  a  call  from  him  shortly 
before  he  went  out  to  keep  his  appointment  for  dinner. 
The  result  of  the  interview  was  to  impress  upon  the 


1 86  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

banker  that  the  miner  was  a  sharper,  and  upon  the 
miner  that  the  banker  was  not  a  flat.  Mr.  Dysart  de- 
clined to  take  any  immediate  action,  and  closed  the 
conference  with  the  remark,  "  I  am  going  now  to  dine 
with  a  gentleman  from  Colorado  who  knows  something 
of  this  property.  I  will  see  what  he  has  to  say,  and 
you  may  call  again  day  after  to-morrow." 

The  prospect  was  not  an  encouraging  one,  but  Dun- 
phy  determined  to  know  whatever  could  be  found  out  of 
the  conference  between  Messrs.  Dysart  and  Audran. 
He  kept  watch  on  the  banker's  movements,  and  saw  him 
receive  Robert  at  Delmonico's.  Assuming  that  dinner 
would  require  at  least  an  hour,  he  returned  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  and  took  his  position  near  the  door  from 
which  they  must  issue  to  reach  their  carriage,  and  he 
heard  Mr.  Dysart  say,  "We  shall  miss  the  train  if 
I  go  back  for  those  papers  now ;  but  if  you  will  come 
up  again  to-morrow  night  we  will  look  them  over  to- 
gether." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mr.  Dunphy  to  himself ;  "  that  is,  if 
you  don't  happen  to  lose  them  before  you  get  there. 
I  reckon  I  'd  better  see  how  things  are  fixed  all  round." 

He  hastened  after  the  retreating  carriage  until  he 
spied  a  vacant  cab,  into  which  he  jumped,  and,  bidding 
the  driver  keep  a  little  behind,  followed  to  the  station. 
He  entered  a  car  behind  theirs,  buying  a  ticket  for 
Tarrytown,  the  train  happening  to  be  a  Tarry  town 
special. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  Glenwood  station,  Mr.  Dy- 
sart recognized  his  carriage,  and  his  daughter  in  it.  He 


A    CHANGE  OF  SCENE.  1 87 

presented  Robert  to  Julia,  —  a  tall  and  brilliant  bru- 
nette, five  or  six  years  younger  than  her  sister,  and  very 
handsomely  dressed  in  black  silk,  with  a  white  carriage- 
cloak  and  parasol,  and  a  white-plumed  hat. 

"  I  knew  Julia  would  be  so  impatient  to  get  the  news 
that  I  sent  all  the  letters  up  to  her  this  morning,"  he 
explained.  "  Most  of  them  were  for  her,  in  fact.  I  had 
only  a  long  one  from  my  wife  and  a  short  one  from 
Helen." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Julia,  "  I  had  one  from  everybody,  — 
mamma,  Helen,  Eugene,  and  Alice  Carroll.  Papa  sent 
all  six  out  to  me.  I  got  them  at  twelve,  and,  as  you 
may  imagine,  have  had  a  very  exciting  afternoon.  It  is 
very  kind  of  you,  Mr.  Audran,  to  come  up  and  tell  us  all 
about  them.  You  will,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Julia,  I  want  Mr.  Audran  to  stay  with  us  while  he  is 
in  town.  You  must  do  your  best  to  persuade  him.  How 
long  do  you  remain,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  I  shall  have  business  at  your  banking-house  on  the 
24th,  day  after  to-morrow ;  and  so  soon  as  that  is  done 
I  must  leave  for  Colorado." 

"  Then  you  will  have  only  to-morrow  to  give  us,"  said 
Julia.  "  What  a  pity ! " 

"  Hardly  that,  even,"  said  Robert,  "  for  I  must  go  to 
New  Haven  to-morrow,  and,  as  I  said,  if  I  can  finish 
my  business  on  Friday,  must  take  the  train  for  the  West 
that  evening." 

"You  must  certainly  come  up  for  to-morrow  night, 
then,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "You  can  get  back  from 
New  Haven  in  time  for  the  train  at  6.30,  which  brings 


1 88  MANUELA  PARADES. 

you  to  our  house  by  eight ;  that  is  not  late  of  a  summer 
evening." 

"  Thanks.     I  will  do  so  with  pleasure." 

They  were  speeding  along  the  river  road  behind  a 
pair  of  fine  horses,  and  now  reached  Mr.  Dysart's 
summer  house,  —  one  of  the  most  attractive  in  the 
neighborhood.  It  stood  three  or  four  hundred  feet 
from  the  road,  on  a  green  slope  fronting  the  river,  and 
the  approach  was  bordered  with  well-grown  and  trim 
hedges. 

Every  stage  of  their  progress  had  been  observed  from 
a  distance  by  Mr.  Dunphy.  He  had  lost  sight  of  them 
for  a  time  when  they  drove  away  from  the  station  ;  but 
having  learned  the  whereabouts  of  Mr.  Dysart's  house, 
was  reconnoitring  the  premises,  half  an  hour  later,  with 
an  experienced  eye.  After  spending  some  time  in  that 
occupation,  he  took  a  late  train  for  New  York. 

Julia  meanwhile  had  done  the  honors  of  the  well-ap- 
pointed supper-table,  after  which  the  trio  adjourned  to 
a  pretty  little  parlor,  where  Mr.  Audran  recounted  to 
eager  listeners  most  of  the  incidents  of  the  foregoing 
history,  withholding,  of  course,  all  significant  passages 
between  himself  and  Helen.  He  was  embarrassed  in 
speaking  of  the  baroness,  who,  as  it  appeared,  had 
formed  almost  the  sole  subject  of  Helen's  letters  to 
her  father  and  sister.  Both  Mr.  Dysart  and  Julia  were 
intensely  interested  to  hear  more  about  her,  and  from 
an  unbiassed  source. 

"  I  beg  you  will  speak  with  perfect  freedom,"  said 
Mr.  Dysart.  "  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to  have  your 


A    CHANGE   OF  SCENE.  189 

judgment  of  her,  and  particularly  if  it  is  favorable. 
Tell  us  first  how  she  looks." 

"  You  tell  me,"  said  Robert,  "  that  she  is  nearly  fifty  ; 
but  except  for  her  very  white  hair,  I  should  have  thought 
her  not  more  than  thirty-five.  She  is  very  erect  and 
stately,  very  clear  of  complexion  and  smooth  of  feature, 
a  little  stouter,  perhaps,  than  she  may  have  been,  but 
still  very  elastic  and  active.  Her  voice  is  particularly 
sweet  and  sympathetic.  You  should  have  heard  her 
sing  at  our  little  dinner-party.  It  was  a  beautiful  song  of 
Beranger's,  '  The  Shooting  Stars.'  The  refrain  is, '  Qui 
file,  et  file,  et  disparait.'  It  was  exquisite. « 

"  And  how  is  she  as  to  manners  and  conversation  ?  " 
said  Julia. 

"  I  should  say  that  she  had  great  ability,"  answered 
Robert.  "  She  speaks  several  languages  well ;  her  Eng- 
lish, particularly,  is  so  good  that  you  would  believe  it 
to  be  her  native  tongue.  She  is  evidently  very  well 
educated,  and  is  never  at  a  loss.  Under  the  most  diffi- 
cult circumstances,  and  even  when  her  feelings  are  ex- 
cited, she  is  always  dignified  and  elegant." 

"  Did  she  not  strike  you  as  an  artful  person  ? "  ques- 
tioned Julia. 

"  She  seems,"  said  Robert,  "  like  one  who  has  pur- 
poses and  plans,  and  yet  who  is  very  frank  about  them. 
It  would  appear  as  if  nothing  ever  comes  into  her  mind 
which  she  is  afraid  or  ashamed  to  show." 

"  She  must  be  a  remarkable  woman,  indeed,"  said 
Julia,  "if  she  can  fascinate  and  beguile  my  sister. 
Helen  is  very  clear-headed,  and  always  goes  directly  to 


MANUELA   PARADES. 


the  point.  She  is  not  easily  taken  in,  and  it  puzzles  me 
extremely  that  she  should  seem  to  accept  and  approve 
this  equivocal  or  unequivocal  woman.  Do  you  think 
the  baroness  is  really  fond  of  Helen  {  " 

"  I  remember,"  said  Robert,  "  a  remark  of  your  sis- 
ter's. She  said,  '  The  baroness  is  not  a  common  woman, 
—  her  features  and  expression  show  that.  When  a 
woman  is  fifty  years  of  age,  and  has  led  a  weak  or 
vicious  or  shallow  life,  it  will  leave  some  trace  on  ex- 
pression and  manner;  but  she  is  as  fresh  and  full  of 
enthusiasm  as  a  girl,  and  her  thoughts  range  over  wide 
areas  and  go  down  to  the  roots  of  things.'  Those,  I 
believe,  were  her  very  words.  But  the  baroness  is 
without  doubt  fond  of  your  sister,  —  very  fond  and  very 
proud." 

"  How  do  they  bear  it  ?  "  said  Julia  impatiently. 

"  It  seemed  to  me,"  said  Robert,  "  that  the  first  feel- 
ing of  all  the  party  was  one  of  distrust  and  repugnance 
at  being  associated  with  a  person  of  the  baroness's 
antecedents.  It  was  certainly  a  hard  task  which  she  set 
herself,  to  overcome  all  their  prejudice  ;  but  gradually  she 
seems  to  have  won  her  way  to  the  sympathy  and  confi- 
dence of  every  one,  and  I  thought,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  their  real  esteem  also.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  she 
would  have  done  so  if  she  had  not  inspired  them  with  a 
belief  of  the  goodness  of  her  heart." 

"  And  how  much  do  you  think  she  will  exact  or  ex- 
pect of  Helen  ?"  said  Julia. 

"  I  cannot  tell/'  answered  he.  "  All  that  she  can 
get  ;  of  that  I  am  sure." 


A   CHANGE   OF  SCENE.  191 

"  And  what  is  the  baron  like  ?  " 

"  The  baron  is  still  in  early  middle  life,  a  distin- 
guished soldier,  a  very  fine-looking  person,  and  devoted 
to  his  sister.  He  is  a  Deputy  of  the  French  Assembly, 
a  Republican,  and  has  some  anticipations  of  diplomatic 
service  in  America." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Mr.  Dysart  "  He  is  a  man  of  mark, 
then.  Is  he  also  a  man  of  fortune  ?  " 

"I  can  only  guess,"  said  Robert.  "I -have  seen  a 
sketch  of  the  chateau  at  or  near  Colmar,  where  they 
live.  It  seems  a  fine  property.  He  has  succeeded  to 
the  title,  and,  the  baroness  says,  to  half  the  estate,  the 
remainder  belonging  to  herself.  There  was  nothing 
of  the  ostentation  of  wealth  about  either  of  them,  —  in 
fact,  no  allusion  to  it ;  but  there  was  all  the  liberality 
and  elegance  of  appointment  which  comes  of  easy  cir- 
cumstances." 

"  You  said  that  the  baroness  sang,"  said  Julia.  "  She 
is  accomplished,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Robert ;  "  she  sings  well  and  draws 
beautifully ;  the  baron  told  me  that  she  is  an  excellent 
horsewoman ;  and  I  know  that  she  is  well  versed  in  art 
and  literature." 

"  Did  the  baron  seem  to  share  her  views  as  to  Helen  ? " 
said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  The  baron  is  so  much  a'  man  of  the  world  that  it  is 
not  easy  to  know  exactly  what  his  views  are.  He  was 
most  courteous  and  respectful  to  all  the  ladies,  and 
evidently  very  much  impressed  by  your  sister." 

"I  cannot  help  wondering,"  said  Julia,  "whether  he 


192  MANUELA   PARADES. 

has  any  desire  to  make  a  baroness  of  Helen.  I  sup- 
pose you  cannot  relieve  our  minds  on  that  head,  Mr. 
Audran  ? " 

"  I  certainly  cannot,"  answered  Robert,  laughing. 

"  Well,  what  does  Alice  say  about  it  ?  She  is  not  so 
discreet  as  you." 

"  Miss  Alice  said  nothing  about  it  in  my  hearing ;  but 
if  I  were  to  guess,  I  should  say  she  was  not  so  favora- 
bly impressed  with  the  baron  and  baroness  as  are  the 
rest  of  the  party.  Naturally,  she  received  less  attention 
from  them,  and  they  were  less  anxious  to  win  her  good 
opinion." 

"  Did  you  see  any  likeness  between  Helen  and  her 
mother  ?  "  said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Robert,  "  a  striking  likeness,  not  only 
in  person  but  in  mind  and  in  manner.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  the  baroness  is  equal  to  Miss  Dysart." 

"  I  should  hope  not,"  cried  Julia. 

"You  may  have  the  opportunity  of  forming  your  own 
opinion,  I  fancy,"  said  Robert.  "  It  was  clear  to  me 
that  both  the  baron  and  his  sister  took  pains  to  intimate 
their  intention  of  perhaps  coming  to  America ;  and  I  am 
convinced  that  if  that  were  the  only  way  in  which  the 
baroness  could  maintain  relations  with  your  sister,  she 
would  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  to  do  so." 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  Julia.  "  What  on  earth  should  we 
do  with  her  ?  How  could  we  know  her  without  coun- 
tenancing her,  —  and  how  could  we  countenance  her 
without  losing  our  own  position,  in  our  own  eyes,  and  in 
hers,  and  in  the  world's." 


A    CHANGE  OF  SCENE.  193 

"I  think  that  will  be  more  clear  to  you  when  you 
come  to  know  her.  She  has  too  much  force  and  origi- 
nality to  depend  upon  any  position  which  is  merely 
accorded  to  her.  She  would  have  her  own  resources, 
social  and  of  every  other  kind." 

"  Well,"  said  Julia,  "  I  am  in  despair.  Nobody  seems 
to  think  about  this  woman  as  I  should  suppose  they 
would.  It  seems  to  me  that  abhorrence  of  her  past 
life  and  disgust  at  her  present  pretensions  would  be  the 
natural  sentiment  of  all  of  us ;  instead  of  which  all  — 
my  mother  even  —  accept  her  history,  are  full  of  apolo- 
gies for  her  behavior,  and  one  and  all  are  ready  to  give 
her  whatever  she  asks.  I  cannot  understand  it,  and  I 
don't  like  it.  I  had  hoped  that  Mr.  Audran,  at  least, 
would  be  free  to  denounce  her,  but  he  speaks  of  her 
just  as  respectfully  as  the  rest."  She  paused,  evidently 
in  great  excitement,  then  began  again. 

"  Never  mind  if  I  am  not  expected  to  speak,  —  I 
must !  "  she  cried.  "  Mr.  Audran,  you  have  rendered 
the  greatest  service  conceivable  to  us  and  to  Helen. 
Helen  is  very  chary  and  reserved  in  what  she  says  of 
you ;  but  Alice  is  not  so  reticent,  and  Alice  says  that 
Helen  has  the  greatest  regard  for  you,  and  you,  appar- 
ently, for  her.  How  am  I  to  understand  it,  —  that  you 
appear  so  much  interested  in  allowing  the  baroness  to 
dispose  of  Helen  just  as  she  pleases, — marrying  her 
to  the  baron  if  she  likes  ? " 

"Julia!  Julia!"  said  her  father,  "you  have  no  right 
to  ask  Mr.  Audran  such  questions,  and  he  is  under  no 
obligation  to  answer  them.  You  know  how  much  Helen 

13 


194  MANUELA  PARADES. 

herself  would  resent  what  you  have  just  said,  and  how 
annoying  it  must  be  to  Mr.  Audran.  I  am  really  shocked 
at  you,  child  !  " 

"  Do  forgive  me !  "  said  Julia.  "  I  suppose  it  was 
outrageous,  papa,  but  I  have  been  half  wild  all  day. 
Mr.  Audran,  I  am  very  impertinent,  and  you  may  say 
so  plainly  if  you  like." 

"  Not  impertinent  so  far  as  it  concerns  myself,"  said 
Robert ;  "  but  if  I  have  won  any  place  in  your  sister's 
good  opinion,  Miss  Julia,  I  must  take  care  not  to  risk 
it  by  assuming  any  influence  which  she  has  not  con- 
ceded." 

"  Well,"  said  Julia,  "  I  hope  I  know  when  I  have  been 
sufficiently  schooled.  It  is  better  that  I  should  retire, 
and  digest  my  lesson.  Good-night,  Mr.  Audran,  —  I 
shall  get  over  my  crossness  before  morning ;  and  good- 
night, papa."  — 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  believe,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  that 
both  my  wife  and  Helen  take  a  more  reasonable  view  of 
this  matter  than  Julia.  The  easiest  way  out  of  such 
complications  is  the  best.  I  cannot  be  very  angry  with 
a  woman  who  gave  me  my  liberty  in  asserting  her  own. 
It  has  been  the  dark  spot  in  my  life  that  my  neglect 
and  coldness  should  have  driven  her  to  an  untimely 
death,  and  it  is  an  immense  relief  in  one  way  to  know 
not  only  that  she  lives,  but  that  I  have  not  ruined  her 
life, — that  she  has  found  a  growth  and  happiness  for 
herself  to  which  I  never  should  have  led  her.  Manuela 
was  always  gentle  and  magnanimous,  and  there  was 
much  in  me  as  a  husband  for  her  to  pardon  and 


A    CHANGE  OF  SCENE.  195 

forget.  Of  course  the  idea  that  she  can  assert  any  con- 
trol over  Helen  which  Helen  herself  does  not  accept  is 
absurd.  Her  wish  for  her  child  is  a  natural  one ;  in 
fact,  every  one  must  think  better  of  her  for  having  it." 

"  It  is  a  matter  upon  which,  of  course,  I  can  express 
no  opinion,"  said  Robert ;  "  but,  Mr.  Dysart,  so  much 
has  been  said  that  I  think  it  proper  to  add  that  my  brief 
acquaintance  with  your  daughter  led  me  to  feel  an  in- 
terest in  her  such  as  I  have  never  felt  for  any  other 
woman.  She  knows  it,  for  I  have  told  her  so ;  and  all 
that  I  have  won  from  her  in  reply  is  that  she  regards 
me  as  a  valued  friend,  whose  sentiments  time  must  be 
allowed  to  ripen  and  to  prove  ;  and  she  spoke  with  such 
decision  that  I  was  obliged  to  accept  her  conclusion. 
Of  course  it  is  to  you  only  that  I  could  venture  to  con- 
fide this,  and  to  declare  my  intention  of  commending 
myself  to  her  as  best  I  can.  You  may  very  naturally 
feel  that  a  man  placed  as  I  am  has  hardly  a  right  to  as- 
pire to  Miss  Dysart ;  and  as  I  would  not  seem  too  pre- 
sumptuous, I  must  ask  leave  to  tell  you  something  of 
my  affairs.  I  have  a  fair  prospect  of  business  success 
in  Colorado.  My  partner  and  myself  are  about  to 
double  our  investment  in  stock,  and  in  so  doing  we 
shall  become  prominent  among  the  cattle-farmers  of 
our  State,  —  a  business  which  has  proved  lucrative  to 
almost  everybody  engaged  in  it  so  far.  I  am  also  told 
that,  in  my  absence,  and  without  my  instance,  some 
chance  of  public  and  political  preferment  has  been  sug- 
gested for  me." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Dysart,  "  I  would  not  and 


196  MANUELA   PARADES. 

shall  not  control  my  daughter's  choice,  and  I  cannot  yet 
tell  you  how  far  I  may  try  to  influence  it ;  but  I  am 
bound  to  express  my  sense  of  the  manly  and  honorable 
way  in  which  you  have  dealt  with  me,  and,  I  believe, 
with  her.  If  she  has  said  that  time  only  can  determine 
your  sentiments  and  hers,  I  recognize  an  honesty  and 
a  good  sense  which  I  am  apt  to  find  in  all  she  says  and 
does." 


GLEN  WOOD  AND  JULIA.  197 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA. 

\T  7HEN  Mr.  Audran  came  down  the  next  morning, 
*  *  he  found  Julia  on  the  southern  piazza,  picking 
the  dead  leaves  from  the  flower-baskets.  Bright  sun- 
light filtered  through  the  woodbine,  long,  velvet-soft 
tree-shadows  fell  across  the  lawn ;  below,  the  river  shone 
in  gold.  But  the  young  day  was  not  more  fresh  and 
alluring  than  the  maiden  with  her  fresh  cambric  robe 
and  shining  morning  face. 

"  I  was  very  fractious  and  impatient  last  night,"  she 
said,  by  way  of  greeting ;  "  but  I  have  come  to  my 
senses  this  morning.  What  good  would  there  be  in  my 
standing  out  all  alone  by  myself  ?  " 

"  You  certainly  misunderstood  me,"  said  Robert,  "  if 
you  thought  me  interested  to  secure  the  success  of 
Madame  Waldeyer's  scheme.  Nothing  could  be  further 
from  the  truth.  I  wished  only  to  make  her  seem  less 
disagreeable  in  case  she  should  succeed.  I  am  sure 
your  sister  feels  that  her  wishes  cannot  be  altogether 
disregarded  and  herself  rejected,  and  your  father  and 
mother  are  of  the  same  opinion.  If  that  be  so,  is  it 
not  better  to  get  what  pleasure  you  can  from  the  sit- 
uation ? " 


1 98  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Do  you  think  the  baron  and  baroness  will  continue 
to  pursue  them  from  place  to  place  as  they  go  through 
Switzerland  ?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  sure  as  to  that.  They  will  not  be  likely 
to  do  anything  which  would  make  themselves  unaccept- 
able to  your  sister  and  her  friends.  Consider,  Miss 
Julia.  You  question  me  now,  but  from  this  day  forward 
you  will  have  more  and  bettei  means  of  information 
than  I.  How  many  times  I  shall  long  to  know  what 
you  know  when  knowledge  will  be  impossible  for  me!  " 

"  Shall  you  want  very  much  to  know  ?  "  asked  Julia 
archly. 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  said  Robert  quietly. 

"  You  are  going  to  your  home  in  Colorado,  you  say, 
Mr.  Audran.  Shall  you  remain  there  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  until  I  am  called  elsewhere." 

"  And  when  are  you  to  be  in  New  York  again  ?  " 

"That  I  cannot  tell;  it  must  depend  on  circum- 
stances." 

"  They  will  all  be  at  home  in  November,  you  know. 
You  will  come  on  then,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  hope  I  may." 

Just  then  came  the  summons  to  breakfast.  Julia  was 
vexed  at  the  interruption.  "  Mr.  Audran,  you  are  most 
provoking.  You  know  very  well  that  I  want  to  find  out 
what  there  is  between  you  and  Helen." 

"Well,  Miss  Julia,  you  may  assume  anything  you 
please  of  me,  and  I  shall  not  have  the  least  objection  to 
your  getting  any  information  from  your  sister  which  she 
is  willing  to  give." 


GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA.  199 

"  Time  and  trains  wait  for  no  man,"  said  Mr.  Dysart, 
from  the  hall  door.  "Julia,  it  is  going  to  be  very  warm 
to-day,  and  since  Mr.  Audran  is  not  to  be  in  town,  I 
think  I  shall  come  up  by  the  three  o'clock  train.  Apro- 
pos, Mr.  Audran,  where  are  your  bonds  ?  " 

"  In  the  Park  Bank,"  said  Robert. 

"  Then  you  need  not  go  down  town  at  all  unless  you 
care  to  do  so.  Write  an  order  to  the  Bank  to  deliver 
them  to  the  Union  Trust  Company  as  collateral  on  a 
loan  of  $10,000,  — the  amount  to  be  deposited  to  your 
order  on  the  Park  Bank.  I  will  make  all  the  negotia- 
tions, and  you  shall  have  the  money  at  four  per  cent. 
Come !  we  must  make  haste  with  our  breakfast." 

Robert  was  glad  to  accept  the  proposal.  The  city, 
on  that  hot  day,  offered  no  attractions ;  so  the  gentle- 
men parted  at  the  station,  Robert  taking  the  New 
Haven  train.  "  I  will  come  up  as  early  as  I  can,"  were 
his  last  words  ;  and  Mr.  Dysart's,  "  And  I  will  bring  all 
those  papers  about  my  affair." 

Meantime  Mr.  Dunphy  had  hunted  up  a  "Faker."— 
not  a  Hindoo  saint,  by  any  means,  but  a  trim,  nice- 
looking  boy  of  seventeen,  dextrous  in  pocket-picking 
and  sharp  at  all  evil  practices.  Shortly  after  Mr.  Dysart 
reached  his  office  the  boy  entered,  and  asked  for  Mr. 
Foxton.  The  clerk  knew  no  such  person.  The  boy 
then  stated  that  Mr.  Foxton  was  a  gentleman  from  the 
West,  who  was  going  to  England,  and  was  to  meet  a  Mr. 
Audran  at  Mr.  Dysart's  office.  His  (the  boy's)  mother 
had  been  Mr.  Foxton's  nurse  in  England,  and  wanted 
to  see  him.  Might  he  wait  awhile,  on  the  chance  of 
Mr.  Foxton's  coming  in  ? 


200  MANUELA   PARADES. 

This  was  permitted.  Mr.  Dysart  came  and  went, 
arranging  Robert's  business  and  attending  to  other 
matters,  but  still  the  boy  did  not  move.  From  behind 
a  newspaper  he  watched  everything  narrowly.  About 
two  o'clock  Mr.  Dysart,  who  had  been  absent  for  an 
hour,  returned,  and  presently,  taking  the  safe-key, 
unlocked  an  interior  compartment,  took  thence  a  pack- 
age and  placed  it  in  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat.  At 
this  the  boy  got  up,  saying  he  could  wait  no  longer,  and 
went  out  to  report  to  Mr.  Dunphy,  who  was  lurking  in 
a  doorway  on  the  other  side  of  the  street. 

When  Mr.  Dysart  came  out,  a  little  later,  the  pair 
followed  him  at  a  distance,  until  at  the  Astor  House  he 
caught  a  car  just  leaving  for  the  Grand  Central  Station. 
The  boy  hastened  forward,  and,  hustling  Mr.  Dysart  on 
the  platform,  attempted  to  reach  his  breast-pocket,  but 
failed.  Mr.  Dysart  walked  to  the  upper  end  of  the  car 
and  took  a  seat  next  the  door.  It  was  impossible  to 
reach  his  pocket  without  notice.  Again,  when  he 
alighted,  at  either  door  of  the  station  and  at  the  door  of 
the  car,  the  attempt  was  renewed  and  was  unsuccessful. 
The  boy  came  back  chagrined  to  Dunphy,  who  had 
seated  himself  in  another  car.  They  hurried  out,  and 
Dunphy  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  scrap  of  paper,  as  fol- 
lows :  "  Take  the  1 8-foot  boat  and  large  spritsail,  2  pair 
oars,  2  yards  black  cambric,  2  feed-bags,  2  cod-lines, 
Colts.  Shady.  Be  within  call  of  two  willows,  quarter 
of  a  mile  above  Glenwood  Station,  at  9.  Get  the 
Badger."  Then  he  returned  to  the  car  behind  that  in 
which  Mr.  Dysart  sat,  and  the  boy  went  his  way  down 


GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA.  2OI 

42d  Street  to  the  North  River,  and  along  the  bank 
until  he  reached  a  shanty,  before  which  lay  a  stanch 
but  light  boat,  and  in  it  a  man  at  work  upon  some 
fishing-tackle.  The  boy  handed  the  note  to  this  man, 
who  glanced  at  it  and  said,  "Run  down  to  the  car 
stable  and  tell  Barney  the  Badger  to  come  up  here, 
quick." 

When  the  Badger  arrived,  they  entered  upon  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  note,  the  result  of  which  was  that  Dunphy 
expected  them  to  meet  him  with  a  well-equipped  boat, 
and  material  for  masks  and  for  gagging  and  binding 
two  people. 

"  He  means  that  we  shall  carry  revolvers,  Bill.  That 
looks  like  biz." 

"  He  don't  mean  to  be  nabbed  if  the  snap  of  a  cap 
will  clear  him,"  pleasantly  answered  Bill. 

"  I  reckon  we  'd  better  take  a  bottle  of  chloroform 
along,  to  make  the  inside  of  them  bags  smell  good. 
There 's  no  use  being  cruel  when  there  ain't  no  need  on 
it,"  said  the  Badger. 

"  You  go  and  buy  the  kit,  Barney,  and  I  '11  get  the 
boat  ready.  We  must  be  off  right  away,  for  the  tide  's 
agin  us,  and  we  've  got  to  make  twenty  miles  before 
sundown  ;  but  the  tide  's  right  to  bring  us  home  easy, 
and  that 's  the  main  point." 

At  seven  that  evening  the  boys  who  were  bathing  off 
the  docks  at  Yonkers  hailed  a  small  boat  careening 
under  a  large  sail  and  standing  northward.  An  hour 
later  the  sail  was  furled,  the  mast  unshipped  and  laid 
down,  and  two  men  were  apparently  fishing,  while  a  boy 


202  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

with  oars  kept  the  boat  off  a  wooded  point  above  Glen- 
wood.  Half  an  hour  later  Dunphy  hailed  the  boat,  and 
was  taken  on  board  to  complete  the  preparations  and 
the  programme.  He  pointed  out  the  house  on  the  hill- 
side, with  a  background  of  trees  and  an  open  lawn  in 
front.  It  was  not  more  than  three  hundred  yards  from 
where  the  boat  lay. 

"  Boys,"  said  he,  "  this  ain't  no  burglary  job.  What 
I  want  is  a  batch  of  papers  out  of  the  pocket  of  an  old 
man  up  yonder.  I  reckoned  we  'd  have  to  tackle  two 
on  'em,  but 't  aint  so.  T'  other  one  hain't  come  up  yet, 
and  he  can't  get  here  now  afore  ten  o'clock,  if  he  comes 
at  all.  We  '11  get  up  to  the  house  now,  Bill  and  I. 
Barney,  you  stay  in  the  boat,  take  the  oars  from  that 
kid,  and  stand  ready  to  start  her  out  lively  as  soon  as 
we  tumble  aboard.  The  windows  is  all  open,  and  the 
old  feller  was  sitting  on  the  piazzy  just  now.  We  '11 
work  up  behind  that  hedge  on  the  north  side  of  the 
house,  and  if  we  can  see  him  anywhere  we  '11  make  a 
dash  at  him.  Bill,  you  '11  hold  his  arms,  and  I  '11  go 
through  him.  If  we  can't  find  the  papers,  we  must 
carry  the  old  man  off  and  keep  him  in  Tom  Houlihan's 
crib  till  he  squeals.  But  we  mustn't  hurt  him  if  we  can 
help  it." 

The  two  ruffians  crept  along  behind  the  evergreen 
hedge,  unobserved,  to  a  point  from  which  they  could 
look  through  the  open  windows  of  the  lighted  house 
about  sixty  feet  distant.  Dunphy  produced  a  small 
saw,  with  which  he  cut  through  the  stems  of  three  or  four 
jcedar-bushes  without  displacing  them.  A  push  would 


GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA.  203 

throw  them  down,  and  leave  an  opening  sufficient  for 
two  men  to  pass.  Elsewhere  the  hedge  was  impassable, 
and  he  counted  on  an  easy  retreat  from  pursuers,  who 
would  not  be  able  to  get  near  him  unless  they  lighted 
upon  the  narrow  opening  which  he  had  made. 

We  must  now  leave  these  worthies  for  a  moment,  to 
follow  the  movements  of  Mr.  Audran.  He  had  gone 
to  New  Haven,  expecting  to  reach  the  city  on  his  return 
about  five  o'clock,  and  to  take  the  six  o'clock  train  for 
Glenwood.  But  he  had  missed  his  train  at  New  Haven, 
and  was  obliged  to  wait  until  five  for  another,  which 
was  not  due  in  the  city  until  eight.  Vexed  at  the  dis- 
appointment, he  telegraphed  that  he  should  take  the 
nine  o'clock  train  from  New  York. 

Julia  was  greatly  disappointed,  and  went  to  the  piano 
to  console  herself  and  pass  away  the  time.  Mr.  Dysart, 
to  escape  distraction,  retreated  to  the  dining-room  with 
his  newspaper.  Robert  was  due  now  in  half  an  hour, 
and  he  bethought  himself  to  look  over  the  papers  which 
they  meant  to  examine  together.  Drawing  his  chair  to 
the  table,  he  turned  his  back  to  the  window  and  spread 
out  the  papers  before  him.  The  day  had  been  very 
warm,  though  after  nightfall  a  pyramid  of  black  cloud 
had  begun  to  rise  in  the  west.  The  air  was  heavy 
and  still ;  there  was  no  wind  on  the  earth  below,  but 
the  dark  masses  above  were  rolled  and  crowded 
by  an  upper  current.  Now  and  then,  through  some 
break  in  the  clouds,  the  bright  moon  shone  down  upon 
the  trembling  river,  the  quivering  trees,  and  the  cattle 
crouching  in  the  silent  pastures  ;  these  transient  gleams 


204  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

but  served  to  make  the  prevailing  darkness  more  in- 
tense. 

Dunphy  and  his  accomplice  had  just  gotten  a  view 
of  Mr.  Dysart  and  his  employment,  and  were  preparing 
for  an  assault,  when  the  whistle  of  the  incoming  train 
was  heard. 

"  We  must  do  it  this  minute,  Bill,"  cried  Dunphy, 
"or  there  may  be  another  chap  to  tackle,  and  then 
we  '11  have  to  wait  two  hours  and  have  no  such 
chance." 

Mr.  Dysart  heard  the  whistle,  rose,  and  walked  to  the 
window  facing  the  gap  in  the  hedge  where  the  men  la}', 
and  stood  there.  They  could  not  move  without  attract- 
ing his  attention. 

"  Damnation !  "  muttered  Dunphy.  "  If  we  stir  now, 
he  '11  grab  his  papers  and  dodge." 

Mr.  Dysart  showed  no  disposition  to  budge,  but  for 
full  fifteen  minutes  stood  gazing  out  into  the  darkness 
beyond  the  strand  of  light  which,  from  behind  his  tall 
figure,  fell  through  the  open  window  and  streamed 
full  upon  the  lawn  and  hedge.  At  length,  thinking 
Robert  might  be  approaching  from  the  opposite  corner 
of  the  lawn,  he  turned  to  go  toward  the  door.  Robert, 
two  hundred  yards  distant  in  the  darkness,  saw  him  pass 
the  western  window ;  the  next  instant  he  noticed  the 
hedge  beyond  the  house  shake  violently  in  the  windless 
air ;  some  bushes  were  thrown  down,  two  men  sprang 
through  the  gap  and  crept  toward  the  piazza.  Robert 
quickened  his  steps  ;  he  saw  them  mount  the  piazza,  and 
reach  the  full-length  window.  He  shouted,  "Thieves! 


GLEN  WOOD  AND  JULIA.  2O$ 

thieves !  "  and  rushed  toward  the  house.  As  he  rushed 
through  the  window,  Mr.  Dysart  lay  rolling  on  the  floor, 
with  a  meal-bag  pulled  down  over  his  head,  and  pinioned 
by  one  ruffian,  while  another  was  sweeping  together  the 
papers  on  the  table.  Beside  the  papers  lay  a  pistol. 
With  one  bound  Robert  had  seized  the  pistol.  "  Run, 
Bill !  "  shouted  the  miscreant ;  and  as  he  himself  sprang 
through  one  window,  Bill  sprang  through  another.  A 
ball  from  Robert's  pistol  cut  Dunphy's  ear  as  he  leaped 
from  the  piazza. 

Robert  waited  but  for  an  instant,  to  pull  the  bag  from 
Mr.  Dysart's  head,  and  then  rushed  forward  in  pursuit ; 
but  the  men  had  already  gained  an  advance  of  nearly  a 
hundred  yards. 

"  Drop  those  papers,  Dunphy !  "  shouted  Robert. 

"  See  you  damned  first,  Audran !  "  yelled  Dunphy, 
as  he  climbed  the  wall  at  the  bottom  of  the  lawn,  and 
a  second  bullet  from  Robert's  pistol  whizzed  by  his 
head. 

Barney  had  backed  the  stern  of  the  boat  against  the 
low  shore,  and  sat  with  balanced  oars.  Bill  reached  it 
first,  for  Dunphy  had  stumbled  beneath  the  wall.  Rob- 
ert was  gaining  on  him,  but  he  saw  that  in  the  short 
distance  it  was  impossible  that  he  should  overtake  them. 
He  had  clutched  a  big  stone  as  he  climbed  the  wall, 
and  now  he  threw  it  with  all  his  force.  It  struck  Dun- 
phy between  the  shoulders  just  as  he  was  steadying 
himself  to  step  into  the  boat,  and  tumbled  him  headlong 
across  the  thwart  upon  his  comrades.  With  a  rapid 
stroke  from  Barney  the  boat  shot  out  into  the  river,  and 


206  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

Bill  raised  his  bruised  and  bleeding  partner  from  the 
thwart  on  which  he  lay. 

"  Damned  if  I  don't  kill  him  !  "  growled  Dunphy,  as 
he  wiped  his  bleeding  face.  "  Give  us  your  pistol !." 

But  the  boat  was  now  far  from  the  shore,  and  shot 
after  shot  passed  harmless  over  Robert,  who  had 
dropped  upon  the  ground  with  the  first.  He  counted 
the  reports,  —  one  —  two  —  three  —  four  —  five.  "He 
is  saving  his  last  charge,"  thought  Robert,  as  Dunphy 
called,  "  Back  water,  Barney.  I  '11  plug  him ! "  But 
a  well-directed  shot  from  Robert's  pistol  now  sung 
over  Barney's  head,  and  he  pulled  more  fiercely  out 
into  the  stream. 

Lights  were  crossing  the  lawn,  the  coachman  and 
the  gardener  were  coming  at  a  run,  and  the  thieves 
contented  themselves  with  their  booty  and  their  escape. 

Next  moment  the  servants  came  up,  followed  by 
Mr.  Dysart. 

"  You  are  not  hurt,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     Nor  you  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  Are  they  off  ? 
What  shall  we  do  next  ?  " 

"  Telegraph  to  the  city  police,  I  should  say,"  answered 
Robert.  "  Have  they  got  anything  of  value  ? " 

"  All  the  papers  about  the  mine,  including  the  con- 
tract upon  which  I  advanced  money." 

"  Is  your  money  lost,  then  ?  "  said  Robert. 

"Really,  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "but  at 
any  rate  I  have  been  beaten  and  robbed  by  a  pair  of 
scoundrels.  I  '11  have  them  yet." 


GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA,  207 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Audran,  "  shall  we  go  down  to  the 
station  and  write  the  despatch  ? " 

One  of  the  servants  was  sent  back  to  reassure  Julia, 
and  they  hastened  on  their  errand. 

"  You  know  the  fellows,  Mr.  Audran  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  one.  It  was,  as  you  suppose,  Dunphy, 
the  tool  and  accomplice  of  Mohler  and  David." 

"  Of  course,  then,  what  they  have  got  was  what  they 
came  for.  Now  they  must  hold  it,  if  it  is  to  serve  them. 
What  will  this  fellow  be  likely  to  do  next  ?  " 

"  Go  home  and  report,  I  should  say,"  said  Robert. 
"  If  he  can  once  get  safely  to  Colorado,  he  will  count 
on  defying  process  or  arrest." 

"  I  '11  follow  him,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  and  I  '11  see  for 
myself  where  my  money  has  gone,  as  I  ought  to  have 
done  in  the  first  place." 

Telegrams  were  sent  to  the  police  of  New  York, 
Brooklyn,  and  Jersey  City,  giving  description  of  Dun- 
phy ;  then  the  two  gentlemen  returned  to  the  house. 

"The  business  of  the  evening,"  said  Mr.  Dysart, 
"being  unavoidably  postponed,  we  may  as  well  give 
what  is  left  to  Julia." 

Julia  was,  of  course,  greatly  alarmed,  but  she  put 
great  restraint  upon  herself  lest  her  fears  might  com- 
promise the  plans  of  the  gentlemen ;  and  when  her 
father  said,  "  I  am  going  to  Colorado,  to-morrow  night, 
with  Mr.  Audran,"  she  replied  bravely,  "  If  you  must 
go,  I  am  glad  it  is  in  such  company.  May  I  ask  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Benlow  and  her  sister  to  come  up  and  stay 
with  me  while  you  are  gone  ? " 


208  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  By  all  means.  I  hope  they  will  come,"  said  Mr. 
Dysart. 

"And  now,"  said  Julia,  "I  shall  have  an  adventure 
to  report  to  mother  and  Helen  quite  equal  to  any  of 
theirs.  And  as  you,  Mr.  Audran,  play  the  leading  role 
in  both,  you  will  figure  as  the  hero  of  two  hemispheres 
and  the  champion  of  the  Dysart  family.  I  declare,  it  is 
embarrassing.  What  ever  are  we  going  to  do  for  you,  to 
repay  all  that  you  have  done  for  us  ?  " 

"  Wait,  if  you  please,  till  I  demand  payment,  and  then 
we  will  see." 

"  But  there  ought  to  be  a  little  scene  here  and  now," 
said  Julia.  "  If  there  is  not,  I  shall  always  feel  that  I 
did  not '  rise  to  the  occasion  '  as  I  ought.  Mr.  Audran 
has  saved  my  father  from  what  might  well  have  been 
his  death,  just  as  he  saved  my  sister,  —  and  I  am  bid- 
den to  wait,  and  not  thank  him  !  "  The  attempt  to  cover 
her  tremor  of  excitement  by  raillery  ended  in  a  passion 
of  tears. 

"  Well,"  said  Robert,  "  there  can  certainly  nothing 
more  be  said  now,  Miss  Julia.  The  most  exacting  per- 
son could  ask  no  greater  reward  than  your  smiles  and 
your  tears.  You  are  not  exactly  like  your  sister,  but 
you  are  a  most  perfect  complement  of  her  ;  and  to  have 
known  you  both,  and  to  have  a  place  in  your  memory,  is 
reward  enough  for  any  man  or  anything.  Mr.  Dysart, 
if  I  had  daughters  I  should  wish  that  they  might  be 
like  yours." 

" '  These  are  my  jewels,'  "  said  the  proud  father. 
"  But  it  is  twelve  o'clock  now,  and  we  have  to  leave  at 


GLENWOOD  AND  JULIA.      ,  209 

half-past  seven.     You  will  go  with  us  to  town,  Julia, 
and  carry  your  own  invitation  to  the  Benlows  ? " 

"  Yes,  please ;  and  so  I  will  say  good-night  to  you 
both." 

About  the  same  time,  or  somewhat  later,  Mr.  Dunphy 
got  ashore  between  Hoboken  and  Jersey  City,  worked 
his  way  round  into  the  freight-yard  of  the  Erie  Railway, 
climbed  between  two  cars  of  an  out-going  freight-train, 
and  stole  a  somewhat  precarious  and  rough,  but  on  the 
whole  a  satisfactory,  ride  as  far  as  Paterson.  It  was 
nearly  daylight  when  he  reached  that  city,  unobserved  ; 
and.  quitting  his  place,  he  found  soon  after  a  barber 
and  a  breakfast,  and  took  a  first-class  passage  on  the 
morning  western  express.  "  About  now,"  said  he, 
"them  cops  will  be  looking  for  me  round  Cortlandt 
Street." 

The  programme  made  at  Glenwood  was  fully  realized 
next  day.  By  three  o'clock  Julia  had  secured  her  visit- 
ors, Mr.  Dysart  had  put  detectives  on  the  track  of  the 
thieves,  Robert  was  in  possession  of  the  title  to  the 
Maritana  estate,  the  Foxtons  had  received  their  price 
as  agreed  upon,  and  Mr.  Dysart  and  Julia  had  left  for 
Glenwood. 

Robert  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  in  making 
purchases  for  Colorado  and  in  writing  letters,  and  at 
eight  P.  M.  was  seated  in  a  section  of  a  sleeping-car, 
where  he  was  joined  by  Mr.  Dysart  when  the  train 
reached  Poughkeepsie.  Mr.  Dunphy  had  twelve  hours' 
start  of  them  on  the  Erie  road. 

On  the  evening  of  the  28th  they  rolled  out  of  the 
14 


210  »        MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

dust  and  din  of  Kansas  City,  across  the  turbid  Mis- 
souri, and  on  to  the  green  plains  of  Kansas,  by  the 
Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railway ;  and  again 
Mr.  Dunphy  had  just  twelve  hours'  start  of  them,  upon 
the  same  route. 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  211 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"  YOUTH  AT   THE   PROW." 

I^IFTEEN  days  had  passed  since  Mr.  Audran  left 
•*-  Interlaken.  The  Dysarts  and  Waldeyers  still 
remained  there,  making  the  usual  excursions  to  the 
Grindelwald,  the  Wengern  Alp,  and  the  Lauterbrunnen 
valley,  including  Miirren.  In  fact,  Helen,  to  whom  all 
decisions  were  referred,  loyally  carried  out,  so  far  as 
she  could,  the  plan  which  Robert  had  sketched  for  her. 
The  whole  party  joined  in  these  excursions,  the  baron- 
ess and  Mrs.  Dysart  going  wherever  carriages  or  chairs 
could  take  them.  The  baron  made  a  capital  guide. 
Alice  declared  that  he  was  as  useful  as  Mr.  Audran  and 
almost  as  intelligent,  but  he  had  not  Mr.  Audran's  fac- 
ulty of  communicating  his  own  enthusiasm. 

The  baroness  had  made  an  entire  conquest  of  Mrs. 
Dysart  and  Eugene,  by  the  sense  and  spirit  of  her  con- 
versation, her  fund  of  anecdote,  and  her  readiness  to 
please  and  oblige.  Upon  Helen  she  had  made  no 
experiments ;  there  had  never  been  any  renewal  of 
the  excitement  which  attended  their  early  interviews. 
Wherever  Helen  led  conversation,  she  followed  it. 
Whenever  Helen  spoke  of  her  friends  at  home,  she 
showed  great  interest  in  learning  all  about  them.  She 


212  MANUELA   PARADES. 

was  glad  if  Helen  allowed  her  to  adjust  her  dress,  very 
happy  when  she  saw  that  Helen  remembered  or  deferred 
to  her  tastes  and  opinions,  wished  to  hear  her  sing,  and 
followed  all  her  motions  with  a  watchful  pride  and  pleas- 
ure so  constant  that  Mrs.  Dysart  and  Alice  were  often 
amused  by  it. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  it  became  evident  that  they 
had  exhausted  the  attractions  of  Interlaken,  and  that  it 
was  time  to  seek  something  new.  One  day  Madame 
Waldeyer  found  Alice  by  herself,  and  began  a  conver- 
sation. 

"  You  will  be  leaving  Interlaken  soon,  will  you  not  ? 
Whither  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Alice.  "  I  don't 
think  Mrs.  Dysart  has  any  very  settled  plan.  What 
would  you  advise  ?  " 

"  If  I  knew  what  you  most  wished  to  see,  I  might 
suggest  where  you  would  be  most  likely  to  find  it," 
replied  the  baroness.  "  It  would  make  very  little  dif- 
ference to  me  where  you  go,  if  I  might  go  with  you." 

"  Have  you,  then,  no  plans  of  your  own  ? "  said 
Alice. 

"  No,  dear,"  replied  the  baroness.  "  The  thing  which 
I  most  desire  now  is  to  be  near  my  daughter,  —  to  be 
happy,  as  I  am  now,  in  her  presence,  and,  if  possible,  to 
do  something  which  will  add  to  her  pleasure.  Alice,  I 
know  you  love  Helen  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do.     Everybody  loves  Helen." 

The  baroness  looked  tenderly  and  sadly  upon  her  as 
she  continued,  "And  yet  you  have  home  and  parents 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  213 

and  brothers  and  sisters  and  friends  and  youth,  and  all 
the  hope  and  promise  of  life  before  you.  Whatever  is 
opening  for  you  has  closed  or  is  closing  for  me.  I  can- 
not bear  to  be  alone  at  Hohentauben,  where  everything 
reminds  me  of  him  who  was  all  the  world  to  me !  O 
dear  child,  I  hope  you  may  some  time  belong  to  one  who 
will  not  only  fill  your  life  with  endless  love  and  trust,  but 
will  lift  your  mind  to  everything  that  is  fresh  and  true 
and  fair.  Why  was  I  formed  and  trained  to  love  so 
deeply,  if  I  may  not  always  have  something  to  love  ? 
How  can  I  go  away  from  Helen,  who  is  so  dear  to  me, 
and  whose  love  I  so  much  long  to  win  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  Madame  Waldeyer.  I  am  sure  I 
don't  know  how  you  can  go;  but,  for  that  matter, 
neither  do  I  see  how  you  can  stay.  Everybody  must 
think  a  great  deal  better  of  you,  and  no  one  can  re- 
proach you,  for  loving  Helen  as  you  do.  You  are  so 
simple  and  direct  yourself,  dear  madame,  that  you  will 
not  be  offended  at  what  I  may  say  ? " 

"  No,  indeed.  Speak  freely  as  you  will.  I  wind  my- 
self up  so  in  my  own  desires  and  imaginings  that  I 
ought  to  know,  and  I  want  to  know,  how  they  seem  to 
others." 

Alice  hesitated  one  moment,  and  then  began  bravely : 
"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  right,  and  I  am  afraid  you 
will  think  I  am  saying  cruel  things,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  you  have  lost  your  opportunity.  Only  the  infancy 
and  youth  of  children  belong  to  their  parents.  When 
they  are  matured,  like  Helen,  they  have  their  own  lives 
to  live,  their  own  homes  to  make ;  and  they  do  not  go 


214  MANUELA   PARADES. 

back  and  develop  new  affections  for  new-found  parents, 
unless  they  are  bound  to  them  by  inevitable  association. 
I  cannot  bear  to  say  what  is  so  painful  to  you,  but  we 
must  all  face  the  facts  of  life  ;  and  I  do  not  see  why 
you  are  not  to  look  on  Helen  as  other  mothers  of  your 
age  look  on  their  full-grown  daughters,  and  more  so, 
even,  for  your  claim  can  never  be  as  good  as  theirs." 

"  You  are  right,  dear.  In  your  own  brave,  true  words, 
I  have  lost  my  opportunity.  All  her  tender,  dependent 
infancy;  all  her  sweet,  budding  childhood  ;  all  her  girl- 
ish beauty,  with  its  yearnings  for  counsel  and  sympa- 
thy, —  I  have  lost.  A  mother's  life  of  devotion  is  her 
true  claim  to  the  love  of  a  right-minded  child.  Helen 
does  not  owe  me  that,  —  she  never  did,  she  never  will. 
If  she  is  indignant  that  I  forsook  her  in  her  cradle, 
when  no  dumb  creature  even  forsakes  her  young,  I  can- 
not answer  her.  I  may  not  claim  from  her  a  daughter's 
love,  for  I  have  not  been  a  mother  to  her ;  and  she 
must  prefer  Mrs.  Dysart,  who  has  been  to  her  all  that  I 
have  not  been.  It  seems  too  much  to  ask  her  to  be- 
lieve that  for  nearly  thirty  years,  —  unseen,  unknown, 
and  silent,  —  all  this  time  a  mother's  heart  has  been  in 
me,  more  intense  because  denied  expression,  nothing 
lost,  —  complete,  compact,  now  passionately  anxious  to 
atone  for  past  default.  An  injured  woman,  abandoned 
at  the  time  of  her  greatest  need,  and  suffering  an  eclipse 
of  reason,  sinned  against  her  own  child,  under  circum- 
stances in  which  repentance,  however  deep,  however 
constant,  must  be  unavailing.  Must  it  be  forever  un- 
availing ?  I  did  not  give  her  care,  but  I  did  give  her 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  21$ 

life,  —  bone  of  my  bone,  flesh  of  my  flesh  ;  and  I  want 
to  give  her  whatever  good  of  life  remains  in  me.  The 
threads  of  my  being  are  woven  all  through  the  web  of 
hers  ;  the  type  of  her  nature  is  in  mine,  from  which  it 
sprung.  She  shrinks  and  dilates,  she  suffers  and  aspires, 
as  I  do.  My  picture  at  thirty  would  pass  for  her  picture 
now  ;  and  wherever  she  is  unlike  me,  she  is  like  what  I 
most  admire." 

Alice  looked  up ;  and  four  tender,  tearful  eyes  told  their 
story  to  each  other. 

"  Well,  then,  dear  Madame  Waldeyer,  what  would  you 
like  to  have  us  do  ?  " 

The  baroness's  tone  changed  at  once.  Crisp  and  gay, 
she  answered,  "  I  should  like  to  be  allowed  to  go  wher- 
ever you  go  ;  and  then,  when  you  are  tired  of  wandering, 
that  you  —  all  of  you  —  should  come  to  me  at  Hohen- 
tauben,  and  be  my  guests  for  so  long  as  you  could  be  con- 
tent to  stay.  Now,  you  dear,  persuasive,  winning  crea- 
ture, won't  you  make  this  all  plain  to  Mrs.  Dysart  and 
to  Helen  ?  And  by  and  by  I  will  speak  for  myself." 

"  Who  is  persuasive  now,  I  wonder  ? "  said  Alice,  as 
she  curved  her  graceful  neck  to  kiss  the  baroness's 
cheek.  "  What  do  you  call  your  home,  madame  ?  " 

"  I  called  it  just  now  Hohentauben.  Like  most  places 
in  Alsace,  however,  it  has  both  a  French  and  a  German 
name.  The  French  name  is  L'Epine,  —  I  fear  be- 
cause the  old  Waldeyers  were  thorns  in  the  way  of 
peaceful  travellers  through  the  valley  'of  the  Fecht.  It 
stands  on  a  wooded  and  rocky  slope,  looking  south- 
ward over  a  reach  of  the  river,  which  just  there 


216  .    MANUELA  PARADES. 

widens  out  like  a  lake.  At  the  foot  of  the  slope  an- 
other small  stream  comes  through  thick  woods,  and  falls 
into  the  Fecht.  It  is  called  the  Vogelbach,  —  Bird- 
Brook, —  because  there  used  to  be  a  great  many  wild 
pigeons  there.  They  came  out  of  that  shady  valley, 
and  sailed  about  the  lofty  castle-tower ;  and  so  the 
country  people  called  it  Hohentauben,  or  High-Doves. 
You  shall  all  have  saddle-horses  when  you  get  there, 
and  for  every  pleasant  day  a  new  excursion,  —  to  Kaiser- 
berg,  to  Hohenlandberg,  to  the  Drei  Exen ;  and  the 
baron  shall  tell  you  the  story  of  each  for  a  thousand 
years,  —  their  courts,  their  festivals,  and  their  sieges. 
We  are  about  four  miles  from  Colmar ;  and  just  across 
the  Rhine  is  the  Black  Forest,  which  is  as  full  of  strange 
and  fascinating  nooks  as  any  place  in  the  world.  Don't 
you  want  to  see  all  this,  Alice  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  said  she.  "  Not  everybody  has  the 
chance ;  not  everybody  can  have  you  as  hostess  and 
guide." 

"  Nobody  ever  has  had,"  replied  the  baroness.  "  The 
baron  was  peculiar.  The  most  charming  of  men  when 
in  society,  he  never  sought  it ;  nor,  until  his  later  years, 
did  he  ever  invite  any  one  to  our  house.  He  was  too 
fond  of  nature  and  study  to  be  willing  to  give  up  his  time 
to  strangers.  Had  it  not  been  for  our  journeys  twice  a 
year,  I  should  have  seen  nobody.  But  come  and  see  his 
home,  and  how  lovely  he  made  it,  and  you  will  hardly 
wonder." 

"  Believe  me,  madame,"  said  Alice,  "  if  the  decision 
rests  with  me,  we  shall  come." 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW.".  2I/ 

A  council  was  held  in  Mrs.  Dysart's  room  that  even- 
ing, the  result  of  which  was  favorable  to  the  wishes  of 
the  baroness.  All  felt  that  a  longer  time  in  which  to 
study  her  character  was  desirable.  So,  when  she  next 
mentioned  her  invitation,  Mrs.  Dysart  said  gently,  — 

"  We  will  stay  a  fortnight  longer  in  the  mountains,  if 
you  are  content  to  remain  with  us;  and  then,  if  you  still 
wish  it,  we  will  return  with  you  to  Hohentauben.  Helen 
has  a  fancy  to  go  over  the  Gemmi  Pass  into  the  valley 
of  the  Rhone,  and  so  to  Martigny.  I  don't  know  where 
she  got  the  notion,  but  it  seems  a  pleasant  one ;  and,  if 
you  agree,  we  will  all  go." 

They  went,  accordingly,  next  evening  to  Spiez,  in 
order  to  make  an  early  start  on  the  following  day  for 
the  twenty  miles'  journey  to  Kandersteg.  One  carriage 
was  occupied  by  Mrs.  Dysart  and  the  baroness;  the 
baron,  as  in  duty  bound,  attended  them.  Helen,  Alice, 
and  Walter  occupied  the  other,  and  Eugene  vibrated 
between  the  two.  The  baron  took  such  care  to  point 
out  every  feature  of  interest  that  when  they  arrived  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  green  and  constantly  narrowing 
valley  of  the  Kander,  and  at  four  o'clock  descended  at 
the  little  inn  of  the  Bar,  they  declared  that  the  day  had 
been  only  too  short  and  not  at  all  fatiguing. 

After  dinner  they  strolled  out  in  front  of  the  solitary 
hotel.  The  sun  was  already  hidden  behind  the  over- 
shadowing mountain  wall,  and  the  chill  of  evening  drove 
them  to  the  fire  in  the  conversation-room.  For  the  first 
time  since  she  came  abroad,  Mrs.  Dysart  had  passed 
out  of  the  region  of  large  towns  and  populous  hotels ; 


218  .      MANUELA   PARADES. 

and  the  transition  to  this  wild,  rock-bound  valley,  and 
the  lonely  little  hostel,  of  which  they  were  the  only 
guests,  contrasted  strongly  with  the  life  and  bustle  which 
they  had  just  quitted.  When  the  night-wind,  in  fitful 
gusts,  came  rushing  through  the  chasm  where  the 
Oeschinen  plunges  over  the  rocks,  the  house  trembled 
with  the  jar  of  the  cataract,  and  the  glass  in  the  win- 
dows rattled.  Then  the  wind  would  die  away,  whisper- 
ing and  sobbing  through  the  tree-tops  of  the  gloomy 
pine-forest,  to  return  again  by  and  by  in  a  gust  which 
roared  down  the  chimney  and  scattered  the  ashes  and 
sparks  about  the  hearth.  Mrs.  Dysart  could  not  tell 
why,  after  a  day  so  bright,  a  sense  of  helplessness  and 
depression  should  suddenly  take  possession  of  her. 
Her  heart,  which  had  been  affected  by  the  rheumatism 
of  the  previous  year,  throbbed  uneasily.  She  knew  the 
doctors  had  at  the  time  been  anxious  about  it,  though 
afterwards  they  had  reassured  her  and  themselves. 
Could  it  be  that  it  was  going  to  trouble  her  again? 
She  was  comforted  when  Madame  Waldeyer  suggested 
that  it  might  be  the  elevated  air  which  disturbed  the 
regularity  of  the  circulation  ;  still  she  did  not  entirely 
accept  the  explanation.  It  would  be  so  dreadful  if  any- 
thing should  happen  to  her  there,  in  that  lonely  place, 
she  reflected.  Taking  Helen  with  her,  she  went  early 
to  her  room,  and  for  the  first  time  in  months  she  said, 
"  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  safely  at  home  in  our  own  peaceful 
house  on  the  Hudson  !  "  Well  for  her  that  she  was  not, 
for  even  then  her  husband  was  struggling  for  breath  in 
the  grasp  of  the  burglar. 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  219 

The  birds  were  singing  a  full-throated  carol  to  the 
bright  morning  sun  when  she  woke  again,  and  all  nature 
was  so  brilliant  and  so  dewy  fresh,  so  vocal  and  inspired, 
that  Mrs.  Dysart  felt  ashamed  of  the  terrors  of  the  night, 
and  quite  ready  to  start  upon  the  day's  route  to  Leuker- 
Bad,  eighteen  miles  away. 

At  the  Bar  the  carriage-road  ends,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  find  other  modes  of  travel.  It  was  arranged  that 
Mrs.  Dysart  should  be  carried  over  the  whole  route  in 
a  chair  slung  between  two  poles,  and  so  balanced  as  to 
give  her  always  a  level  seat.  Four  stout  men  were 
to  relieve  each  other  in  pairs  at  this  work.  The  rest  of 
the  party  went  on  horseback,  except  the  boys, 'who 
started  ahead  on  foot,  to  gain  time  for  an  occasional 
rest.  Through  the  fragrant  forest,  by  the  rushing  gla- 
cier stream,  over  bare  and  sunny  ledges,  past  the  chalet 
of  Schwarenbach,  alongjihe  cold  Daubensee,  they  fared 
on  their  slow  but  pleasant  way,  and  a  little  after  noon 
joined  the  young  men  on  a  knoll  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to 
the  left  of  the  road  at  the  summit. 

Behind  them  lay  the  path  by  which  they  had  come, 
sliding  down  into  the  dim  northern  forest,  and  flanked  by 
the  Rinderhorn,  the  Balmhorn,  and  the  great  snowy  mass 
of  the  Altels.  Westward  the  blue  Lammeren  Glacier 
crept  down  from  the  side  of  Wildstrubel,  crowrfe~d  by  a 
peak  of  glittering  ice,  and  fronted  by  the  solemn  crag 
of  the  Daubenhorn.  Before  them  a  mighty  precipice 
dropped  down  into  the  green  abyss,  where,  three  thou- 
sand feet  below,  and,  as  it  seemed,  hardly  a  pistol-shot 
from  its  base,  nestled  the  hamlet  of  Leuker-Bad,  in  the 


220  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

lovely  valley  of  the  Dala.  Still  farther,  and  another 
three  thousand  feet  lower  down,  lay  the  deep,  narrow 
valley  of  the  Rhone,  beyond  which,  ridge  and  crag  and 
cone  of  dark-red  rock  in  Titanic  roughness,  climbed  to 
the  mighty  chain  of  the  Valaisian  Alps,  —  Monte  Rosa 
gleaming  fair  in  the  far  east,  then  the  clustering  spires 
of  the  Mischabelhorner,  the  massive  dome  of  the 
Weisshorn,  the  slender  pinnacle  of  the  Matterhorn,  and 
low  in  the  west  the  jagged  ridge  of  the  Dent  Blanche. 

They  stood  now  face  to  face  with  that  rank  of  giants 
whose  procession  they  had  seen  in  profile,  a  fortnight 
before,  from  the  top  of  the  Furca.  Less  dazzling  in 
beauty  than  the  snowy  frontage  at  Miirren,  and  less 
comprehensive  in  its  range  than  that  of  the  Rigi,  they 
yet  thought  it  by  far  the  grandest  panorama  they  had 
seen  in  Switzerland  ;  and  Helen  said  to  herself,  "  Mr. 
Audran  knew  what  he  was  talking  about."  At  this 
point  they  dismounted,  and  the  forethought  of  the  baron 
appeared  in  a  provision  of  alpenstocks,  to  steady  their 
footsteps  as  they  went  plunging  down  the  short,  sharp 
zigzags  hewn  on  the  face  of  the  precipice. 

The  baron  walked  directly  behind  Mrs.  Dysart's 
chair,  to  reassure  her  by  his  presence.  More  than  once 
he  might  have  dropped  a  stone  plumb  three  hundred 
feet  down  upon  the  heads  of  those  in  front. 

By  three  o'clock  they  were  all  housed  again  in  the 
Hotel  des  Alpes.  Mrs.  Dysart  had  borne  the  journey 
without  fatigue,  and  remarked  that  it  could  not  have 
been  the  elevation  which  disturbed  the  action  of  her 
heart  the  night  before,  because  she  had  now  passed 
over  a  summit  six  thousand  feet  higher. 


"YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  221 

In  the  morning  they  were  ushered  along  a  stone- 
paved  corridor  of  the  hotel  into  the  bathing-hall,  —  a 
large  rectangular  room,  lighted  from  above.  The  floor, 
except  a  narrow  margin  along  the  sides  which  afforded 
room  for  a  bench  against  the  wall,  was  broken  by  two 
great  square  tanks,  divided  from  each  other  by  a  bar. 
These  tanks  were  lined  with  tiles  of  white  faience,  and 
in  them  sat  a  dozen  or  more  bathers,  the  women  in  one 
and  the  men  in  the  other,  each  robed  in  a  long  white 
flannel  gown  and  parti-colored  skull-cap.  For  support, 
they  generally  rested  their  backs  against  the  wall  of 
the  tank ;  and  before  each  floated  a  tray,  bearing  coffee, 
wine,  cordial,  or  a  book  with  a  knife  for  turning  the 
leaves,  while  all  around  them  the  hot  water  flowed 
silently  in  and  out.  Occasionally  a  sociable  bather 
would  flop  and  paddle,  like  a  human  saurian,  to  ex- 
change notes  with  his  -acquaintance.  The  spectacle  was 
so  comical  to  the  visitors  that  they  could  hardly  under- 
stand the  intense  and  serious  decorum  which  prevailed 
among  the  bathers.  Mrs.  Dysart  heard  such  stories  of 
the  virtue  of  the  waters  in  cases  of  rheumatism  that 
she  decided  to  give  them  three  days'  trial,  during  which 
the  younger  people  made  several  pleasant  excursions. 
On  the  fourth  day  they  drove  down  the  lovely  valley  of 
the  Dala  to  the  railroad,  which  carried  them  quickly 
past  the  Roman  towns,  the  episcopal  palaces,  and  the 
feudal  castles  of  Sion  and  Sierre,  and  so  to  Martigny. 

Martigny  is  the  point  of  departure  for  the  Great  St. 
Bernard  and  the  Valley  of  Chamouny ;  and  the  question 
arose  whether  the  party  should  all  go  together  over  the 
mountains  into  this  valley. 


222  MANUELA   PARADES. 

The  baron  assured  Mrs.  Dysart  that  the  entire  jour- 
ney to  Chamouny  might  easily  be  made  in  a  carriage, 
except  four  or  five  miles  over  the  Tete  Noire,  where  a 
chair  would  be  necessary.  Madame  Waldeyer's  opinion 
was  then  asked. 

She  hesitated,  but  at  length  said,  "  I  have  twice  made 
this  trip ;  there  is  nothing  in  it  to  disturb  a  person  in 
good  health,  except  the  risks  of  the  weather.  If  Mr. 
Dysart  were  here  to  accompany  you,  I  think  you  could 
go  and  enjoy  it.  But  I  cannot  conceal  from  you  that  the 
other  evening  at  Kandersteg  I  felt  as  though  I  perhaps 
had  done  wrong  in  not  dissuading  you  from  so  adven- 
turous a  journey.  If  it  was  my  duty  then,  it  is  all  the 
more  so  now,  and  yet  I  dislike  to  do  it.  If  you  should 
decide  against  it,  since  the  young  people  should  by  all 
means  have  the  pleasure,  may  I  attend  you  to  Geneva  ? 
It  is  but  an  hour  by  rail  to  the  lake,  and  three  hours  in 
a  comfortable  boat  to  the  city.  There  you  can  rest  for 
the  night  in  an  excellent  hotel,  and  next  day  we  will 
take  a  private  carriage  fifteen  miles  to  Sallenches,  and 
the  day  after  fifteen  miles  more  into  Chamouny,  where 
your  party  will  rejoin  you.  I  am  so  familiar  with  the 
route  that  I  do  not  hesitate  in  the  least  to  conduct  you 
alone,  leaving  the  baron  to  attend  Helen  and  Miss  Car- 
roll across  the  mountains." 

"  That  would  certainly  be  a  great  pleasure  for  me," 
said  the  baron;  "but,  as  my  escort  is  by  no  means 
necessary  for  them,  I  cannot  allow  you  and  Madame 
Dysart  to  make  a  three  days'  journey  unattended.  So 
I  must  resign  my  privilege  to  Mr.  Audran  and  Eugene." 


"YOUTH  AT  TEE  PROW."  223 

Mrs.  Dysart  protested  against  this,  but  the  baron  was 
inflexible. 

The  whole  party  went  together  next  day  to  Vernayaz 
to  see  the  Gorge  du  Trient  and  the  magnificent  fall  of 
the  Sallenche,  and  thence  the  baron,  baroness,  and  Mrs. 
Dysart  went  on  by  rail  to  the  lake,  while  the  others  re- 
turned to  Martigny  for  the  next  morning's  start.  The 
baron  had  advised  them  to  go  by  the  Col  de  Balme 
rather  than  by  the  Tete  Noire,  which,  if  the  day  were 
clear,  would  give  them  a  view  of  the  entire  chain  of  the 
Bernese  mountains,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  still 
more  striking  range  of  Mont  Blanc. 

The  young  men  were  now  become  so  familiar  with 
mountain  climbing  that  they  disdained  horses,  and  only 
the  ladies  rode.  A  single  guide  attended  them.  Through 
the  meadows  of  the  Dranse,  and  the  chestnut-groves  and 
vineyards  which  reach  far  up  its  banks,  they  passed  until 
they  came  to  the  hamlet  of  Fontaine. 

"  Fontaine  ? "  said  Helen.  "  Is  not  that  the  name  of 
your  brother's  estate  ?  " 

" Yes,"  replied  Walter,  "and  this  is  the  2pth.  He 
expected  to  leave  New  York  on  the  24th,  so  he  is  prob- 
ably there  now,  buried  in  shadows  of  the  night.  A  third 
of  the  round  world's  surface  is  between  us  and  him,  and 
yet  he  sleeps  by  one  fountain  while  we  ride  through  an- 
other. Man  seems  but  a  little  thing  here,  among  these 
great  mountains  and  cataracts  of  ice,  yet  how  he  sweeps 
over  the  world,  and  uses  it  as  though  it  were  made  for 
him ! " 

"  And  is  it  not  ? "  said  Helen. 


224  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  he.  "  If  it  is,  it  waited  a 
long  time  for  his  coming,  and  will  probably  survive  his 
departure  equally  long." 

"  Then  you  don't  believe  in  the  eternity  of  the  race  ? " 
said  she. 

"  There  certainly  was  a  time,"  he  answered,  "  when  it 
did  not  exist ;  therefore  it  is  not  eternal." 

"  Of  course  I  meant  eternal  in  the  sense  of  its  lasting 
as  long  as  the  world  itself." 

"  There  the  analogies  of  nature  are  against  you.  That 
is  not  the  record  of  the  rocks  or  of  the  stars  or  of  the 
seas.  These  mountains  on  which  we  stand  are  built  of 
insect  skeletons ;  they  are  the  tombstones  of  ages  and 
of  races,  —  oh,  how  many !  Destruction  and  reconstruc- 
tion in  endless  succession  have  followed  each  other 
since  this  planet  was  a  mist  of  whirling  vapor,  and  life 
from  its  source  has  overflowed  the  world  from  unremem- 
bered  ages.  Goethe  says,  — 

'  The  world's  unwithered  countenance 
Is  bright  as  at  creation's  day.' 

It  is  brighter,  as  from  the  records  of  the  past  the  in- 
finite scope  of  the  future  is  foreshadowed,  the  earth 
moving  forward  through  cycles  of  adaptation,  and  life 
advancing  through  like  cycles  of  development  from  the 
monad  to  the  man  ;  and  if  in  this  procession  of  the  ages 
the  earth  should  become  fitted  for  something  better  than 
man,  would  not  something  better  be  ? " 

"Is  not  man  better  than  any  aspect  of  nature?" 
asked  Helen. 


"  YOUTH  AT  THE  PROW."  22$ 

"Perhaps,"  said  Walter;  "but  nature  is  not  com- 
plete. The  word  itself  is  a  future  participle, — natura, 
that  which  is  about  to  be  born." 

"  For  what,  then,  was  the  world  made,  if  not  for  man  ? " 
asked  Helen.  Alice  had  told  her  that  Walter  was  a 
speculative  youth,  but  as  yet  she  had  hardly  seen  this 
herself,  and  she  was  becoming  interested. 

"  I  must  say  again  that  I  don't  know,"  said  Walter. 
"  The  Maker  made  it ;  he  wished  it  even  so,  perhaps, 
for  the  theatre  upon  which  his  own  infinite  life  might 
unfold  itself  in  an  infinite  series  of  living  thoughts  and 
forms.  Would  it  be  for  his  glory  to  suppose  that  any  one 
of  his  creatures  is  the  final  effort  of  his  Maker,  —  is  any- 
thing more  than  a  transitional  form  ? " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Helen.  "  Let  me  know  what  your 
thoughts  are  like." 

"  Well,  then,  suppose  that  this  world  is  the  home  of 
the  Divine  Spirit,  to  whom  an  atom  is  not  small,  and  a 
system  is  not  great,  —  infinite  in  activity  as  in  knowl- 
edge and  power,  working  forever  through  periods  of 
which  recorded  time  is  but  as  one  leaf  of  the  volume,  — 
what  is  the  product  ?  A  stream  of  thoughts  and  forms, 
a  tide  of  types  and  organisms,  instincts,  affections,  affini- 
ties, forces,  laws,  sequences,  —  an  incomprehensible  ag- 
gregate of  life.  Does  it  not  seem  a  violent  assumption 
that  all  this  was  made  for  this  latest  and  most  conceited 
creature,  man  ?  I  should  say  the  world  was  made  for  all 
the  life  which  it  has  borne  and  shall  bear,  of  which  man 
just  now  is  the  crest  and  crown,  —  the  breaking  bubble 
on  the  rolling  surge  of  Being. 

15 


226  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"It  does  not  matter  whether  vve'look  through  the  infi- 
nite spaces  of  the  universe  or  whether  we  look  through 
the  fathomless  history  of  the  world  itself,  I  fancy  man's 
place  in  cosmos  is  not  a  thing  to  be  beyond  measure 
glorified." 

"Why!  "  said  Helen,  "you,  one  of  the  lords  of  cre- 
ation, undervaluing  your  title  at  that  rate !  Seriously, 
now,  Walter,  what  does  the  Bible  say  ?  The  first  chapter 
of  Genesis  tells  us,  'So  God  created  man  in  his  own 
image,  in  the  image  of  God,  created  he  him,'  to  '  have 
dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowls  of 
the  air,  and  over  every  living  thing  that  moveth  on  the 
earth.'  That  was  in  the  beginning  ;  and,  thousands  of 
years  after,  David  sings,  '  Thou  hast  made  him  a  little 
lower  than  the  angels,  and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory 
and  honor.  Thou  hast  put  all  things  under  his  feet. 
Then,  if  more  were  needed,  in  the  fulness  of  time, '  for 
us  men,  and  for  our  salvation,  he  sent  his  Son,  in  the 
likeness  of  sinful  flesh.'  Wherever,  in  any  age  or  in 
any  faith,  the  form  of  God  is  pictured  in  word  or  work, 
it  is  always  in  the  type  of  the  human  form.  What  says 
Hamlet?  'In  action  how  like  an  angel,  in  apprehen- 
sion how  like  a  god  ! '  Why,  Walter,  will  you  deny  your 
birthright,  and  thus  insist  upon  a  comparison  with  the 
lower  forms  of  life  ?  There  are  difficulties  in  your  ma- 
terial philosophy,  no  less  than  in  faith.  Why  not,  since 
at  last  it  must  come  to  an  election  between  them,  elect 
to  trust  the  larger  hope, —  the  only  hope  which  rescues 
us  from  annihilation,  and  '  brings  immortality  to  light '  ? 
I  did  not  mean  to  preach  to  you,  my  boy ;  but  I  am 
disturbed  by  your  philosophy." 


"YOUTH  AT   THE  PROW."  22? 

"  And  I  did  not  mean  to  scoff  to  you,  Miss  Dysart. 
But  is  there  anything  irreverent  in  holding  that  all  forms 
of  being  are  alike  issues  of  the  Divine  Nature,  whose 
thought  gives  them  form,  and  whose  life  flows  over  into 
them  as  each  may  contain  it  ?  If  Jehovah  is  the  I  Am, 
is  Existence,  is  not  Existence  Jehovah  ?  And  if  all  this 
inconceivable  mass  of  life,  from  the  lowest  form  to  the 
highest,  from  the  beginning  until  now,  is  the  effluence  of 
God's  life,  is  it  not  arithmetic  which  tells  us  that  man  is 
but  a  little  fraction  of  the  whole  ?  You  have  quoted 
Scripture  to  me.  Do  you  recall  that  it  is  anywhere  said 
that  God  repented  him  of  any  other  work  of  his  hands 
except  man  ?  And  is  not  this  anthropomorphic  instinct, 
which  figures  the  Highest  and  the  Whole  by  a  human 
likeness,  and  goes  out  to  measure  the  universe  by  units 
of  its  own  stature,  —  is  it  not  this  which  has  been  the 
essence  of  all  superstition,  hoodwinking  the  reason,  de- 
grading the  religious  nature  ?  I  will  not  talk  about  my 
creed.  It  may  not  be  to-morrow  what  it  is  to-day ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  it  is  not  atheism  or  polytheism." 

"It  is  pantheism,  dear  Walter,  —  it  is  the  temptation 
of  young  and  sensitive  minds ;  and  we  are,  both  of  us, 
clear  beyond  our  depth." 


228  MANUELA   PARADES. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

DISTRACTION. 

A  LONG  the  slope  of  the  Col  de  Forclaz,  through 
•*-  -^  the  lonely  hamlet  of  Trient,  a  short  climb  up  and 
across  its  narrow  valley,  and  they  came  to  the  forest- 
clothed  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  Backward  and  for- 
ward, up  the  steep  zigzags,  they  toiled  for  two  miles ; 
and  as  the  dwindling  forest  gave  place  to  heath-covered 
rocks,  they  became  aware  that  their  sky  also  had 
changed.  Gray  masses  of  cloud,  with  here  and  there 
a  drooping  fringe,  were  scudding  rapidly  from  the 
south,  and  large  flakes  of  moist  snow  began  to  fall. 
Thicker  and  faster  they  came,  until  the  ground  was 
entirely  covered,  and  the  path  could  hardly  be  discov- 
ered. The  guide  bade  them  follow  him  closely ;  for 
the  snow  fell  so  fast  that  his  footprints  were  quickly 
filled.  Whoever  should  stray  from  the  path  would  lose 
sight  of  it  and  his  comrades  at  once.  It  was  already 
four  o'clock,  and  the  Col  was  still  far  away.  The  rude 
wind  swept  the  snow  in  their  faces,  and  made  their 
wraps  heavy  and  uncomfortable.  The  horses  stag- 
gered and  stumbled,  and  the  guide  began  to  look 
grave. 


DISTRACTION.  229 


"  How  much  farther  is  it  to  the  top  ?  "  asked  Walter, 
after  a  while. 

"  I  cannot  see  any  landmarks,"  said  the  guide ;  "  but  it 
must  be  still  a  mile.  We  shall  be  late  at  Argentiere,  if 
indeed  we  get  there  at  all." 

"  Is  there  any  doubt  about  our  getting  there  ? "  asked 
Walter  hastily. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  the  guide.  "  No  one  can  tell  what 
we  may  find  beyond  the  summit." 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  perhaps  we  shall  be  forced 
to  turn  back  ?  " 

"  Possibly,  but  not  yet.  There  will  still  be  time  to  re- 
turn to  Trient  half  an  hour  later ;  and  before  that  time 
the  storm  may  pass  over.  But  you  are  getting  very  wet, 
monsieur." 

"  Oh,  do  let  us  push  on  !  It  is  no  worse  to  move  than 
to  stand." 

So  forward  they  stumbled  for  half  an  hour  more,  when 
the  guide  said  cheerily,  "  We  are  near  the  Col.  This 
brook,  crossing  the  path,  is  just  below  the  last  pitch." 

At  that  moment  a  gust  of  wind  tore  a  lane  through  the 
driving  scud,  and  revealed  on  the  ridge  above  them  a 
solitary  building,  used  sometimes  as  an  inn,  but  now  aban- 
doned for  the  season.  A  few  moments  of  redoubled 
effort  placed  them,  wet  and  breathless,  under  the  lee  of 
its  protecting  wall.  This  was  the  summit,  from  which 
the  grand  view  promised  by  the  baron  was  to  have 
been  seen  ;  but  before,  behind,  to  right  and  left,  only 
whirling  banks  of  snow  and  fog  were  visible. 

The  house  was  closed  and  fastened,  and  Walter  said, 


230  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  It  will  never  do  to  stand  here,  cold  and  wet,  in  this  gale 
of  wind." 

The  guide  demurred.  The  horses,  he  said,  were  ex- 
hausted ;  they  must  rest  for  half  an  hour  in  the  shed ; 
it  was  impossible  for  them  to  move  yet. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Argentiere  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

"  About  four  miles,"  answered  the  guide. 

"  Is  the  path  plain  ? " 

"  Yes,  for  the  first  mile  ;  after  that  it  is  very  confused, 
because  of  the  many  cattle-tracks  which  cross  it,  and  the 
beds  of  'dry  streams." 

"  Miss  Dysart,"  said  Walter,  "  you  will  both  get  your 
deaths  of  cold  if  you  stand  here,  and  you  could  not  be 
any  wetter  than  you  are.  Had  we  not  better  walk  on, 
and  let  the  guide  follow  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  Walter.  'T  is  a  blind  venture,  but 
we  '11  try  it." 

The  guide  led  them  to  the  brow  of  the  ridge,  and 
pointed  out  the  path.  The  ladies  double-reefed  their 
skirts  and  retied  their  hats.  Fortunately,  what  had  been 
snow  on  the  crest  and  on  the  north  side  of  the  mountain 
had  on  the  south  been  partly  rain,  and  the  path  was  not 
so  heavily  covered.  Over  the  sodden  and  spongy 
ground,  into  and  over  the  rivulets  which  streamed  from 
the  springy  hillside,  careless  any  longer  of  wet  or  dirt, 
the  party  plunged  down  the  path.  They  had  gone  a 
mile  in  this  way,  when  Helen  cried,  "  Surely  it  is  getting 
lighter,  Walter." 

Below,  toward  the  valley,  everything  was  still  dark  and 
impenetrable  ;  but  overhead  the  mist  was  thinner,  whiter, 


DISTRACTION.  2$  I 


and  filled  with  a  diffused  sunlight.  Just  then  came  a 
gust  of  lifting  wind,  and  as  they  stood  with  upturned 
faces,  in  one  instant  the  veil  rolled  away;  and  right 
above  their  heads,  like  shafts  of  golden  fire  streaming 
up  into  the  infinite  blue  heaven,  rose  the  Aiguille  Verte 
and  the  Aiguille-d'-Or. 

Overpowered  by  a  glory  so  sudden  and  supreme, 
they  sank  upon  a  rock  by  the  wayside.  Ever  after  in 
memory  Helen  compared  that  vision  to  the  opening 
heavens  and  the  golden  pinnacles  of  the  Celestial  City 
in  the  Revelation.  The  serenity  of  the  upper  sky 
spread  downward  to  the  lower  air  ;  and  in  the  light  of 
glittering  rain-drops  on  beds  of  Alpine  roses,  and  to  the 
music  of  the  cow-bells  of  the  returning  herds,  they  went 
gayly  down  to  Argentiere.  The  walk  had  warmed  them, 
and  no  mischief  followed  the  exposure. 

The  next  day  was  spent  in  excursions,  and  evening 
brought  them  to  Chamouny,  where  they  found  Mrs.  Dy- 
sart,  the  baroness,  and  the  baron  already  arrived. 

Mrs.  Dysart  could  not  speak  warmly  enough  of  the 
eare  and  consideration  shown  her  by  her  companions,  or 
of  the  charm  which  their  perfect  knowledge  of  locali- 
ties had  given  to  the  journey.  "  I  was  never  conscious  of 
my  wants,"  she  said, "  until  I  found  them  all  provided  for." 

Helen  hastened  to  the  baroness's  room,  who  received 
her  with  eager  and  tremulous  fondness. 

"  Darling,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  know  how  I  have 
missed  you !  For  three  whole  days  I  have  wanted  your 
presence,  your  voice,  yourself,  —  so  full  of  every  good 
thing  for  me.  Do  sit  down,  and  let  me  look  at  you." 


232  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  And  let  me,"  said  Helen,  as  she  sat  down,  "  let  me 
thank  you  for  your  great  kindness  to  my  other  mother. 
After  you  were  gone,  I  realized  how  strange  it  was  that 
I  should  have  been  willing  to  allow  you  to  take  my  place 
and  do  my  work  for  me.  It  shows  how  much  I  believe 
in  your  goodness ;  and  I  am  as  much  obliged  to  you  as 
Mrs.  Dysart  is.  She  has  just  been  telling  me  how  very 
pleasant  you  made  everything  for  her." 

"Then  I  must  tell  you,"  said  the  baroness,  "  how  very 
pleasant  it  was  to  do  so,  and  how  entertaining  and  de- 
lightful she  was  in  every  way.  She  seemed  perfectly 
well ;  don't  you  think  she  looks  so  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  she  has  improved  very  much  since  we  left 
Paris  ;  and  I  think  the  summer  in  Switzerland  will  re- 
store her  to  perfect  health." 

"  Did  you  enjoy  your  trip  across  the  mountains  ?  " 

•' Very  much,"  replied  Helen.  There  was  one  hour, 
coming  down  from  the  Col  de  Balme,  which  was  worth  a 
month  of  ordinary  life." 

"  That  young  Mr.  Audran  is  very  good  company,  is  he 
not  ? " 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  nice  fellow,  —  modest,  manly,  and  con- 
siderate, as  well  as  amusing.  He  took  very  good  care 
of  us." 

"  Does  he  soon  go  to  Heidelberg  ?  " 

"  He  has  not  spoken  of  his  plans.  The  term  begins 
in  October,  I  think.  He  will  not  need  to  go  very 
soon." 

"  And  what  does  he  say  of  his  brother  ?  " 

"  Nothing.     He   has   heard  nothing  from   him.     In 


DISTRACTION.  233 


fact,  it  is  hardly  time  to  expect  a  letter,  written  from 
New  York." 

"  You  know,  dearest,  I  am  waiting  in  hope  you  will 
all  promise  me  a  visit  at  Hohentauben ;  and  in  that 
case  Mr.  Audran  must  come  with  you.  I  shall  make 
him  understand  how  glad  we  shall  be  to  welcome  him 
there." 

"If  we  go,  I  hope  he  will.  Mamma  likes  to  have 
Eugene  with  him.  It  is  beautiful  to  see  how  quick  and 
far-reaching  his  thoughts  are." 

"Yes,"  said  the  baroness,  "there  is  nothing  so  beauti- 
ful as  youth,  —  unworn,  unsoiled,  full  of  high  thoughts, 
ruled  by  conscience,  and  constantly  growing  in  power." 

Helen  went  over  and  threw  her  arms  aboflt  her 
mother's  neck  and  kissed  her,  as  she  replied,  "I  think 
there  is  one  thing  more  rare  and  lovely  still,  and  that  is 
an  age  which  redeems  the  errors  of  a  misguided  youth, 
and  makes  its  troubled  waters  clear  and  sweet.  It  is 
you,  dear  mother." 

The  tears  dropped  from  the  baroness's  downcast  eyes 
as  she  leaned  her  head  against  Helen's  breast  and  mur- 
mured, "  It  is  so  sweet  to  hear  that  from  you  !  But  that 
is  no  reason  why  I  should  spoil  your  dress,  darling,"  — 
raising  her  head,  —  "when  I  would  rather  adorn  it.  I 
strayed  along  the  Tour  de  1'Isle  night  before  last,  to  find 
some  little  gift  for  my  daughter,  and  here  it  is." 

She  took  from  the  table  a  case  containing  a  brooch. 
It  was  a  disk  about  the  size  of  a  half-dollar,  and  seemed 
made  all  of  precious  stones,  an  outer  circle  of  pure 
liquid  aquamarines  enclosing  an  inner  circle  of  fine 


234  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

opals,  whose  clouded  fire  gathered  round  one  large  and 
perfect  pearl  set  high  above  and  within  them. 

"  Oh,  lovely  !  "  said  Helen.  "  You  know  just  what 
pleases  me,  and  so  does  the  man  who  made  that." 

The  baroness  blushed  as  she  said,  "  The  baron  se- 
lected that  pearl  and  ordered  it  set  in  the  middle  of  the 
circlet.  He  thinks  you  are  a  pearl  of  price,  Helen." 

It  was  Helen's  turn  to  blush  now,  as  she  answered, 
"He  is  very  kind,  and  his  taste  in  jewels  is  certainly 
perfect." 

"  How  pleased  he  will  be  to  have  you  think  so  !  "  said 
Madame  Waldeyer,  "  and  I  am  pleased  too  ;  but,  Helen, 
it  is  no  part  of  my  plan  to  commend  him  to  you,  and  I 
am  a  traitor  for  telling  you  of  his  share  in  the  brooch." 

"  Very  amiable  treachery,  I  am  sure,"  said  Helen. 
"  But,  mother,  about  our  going  to  Hohentauben.  I  don't 
think  my  father  would  object  or  regret,  —  but  —  " 

"  You  mean,  dear,  will  the  world  respect  the  wife  and 
daughter  if  they  accept  hospitality  from  the  woman  who 
abandoned  the  father  and  deserted  the  child.  Perhaps 
the  world  might  not ;  but,  Helen,  the  world  is  not 
your  arbiter.  You  do  not  measure  or  desire  to  measure 
your  steps  to  its  music.  There  is  a  world  beyond  and 
above  what  we  call  the  world,  —  a  world  of  men  and 
women  whose  better  and  gentler  wisdom  you  admire, 
whose  loftier  example  you  revere.  '  Blessed  are  the 
merciful ! '  Would  Jesus  and  Mary  and  Augustine  and 
Beatrice  and  Fenelon  and  Madame  Guyon  wonder  at  or 
reprove  an  act  which  looked  above  the  level  of  the 
hour  ?  You  do  not  care  for  a  world  which  has  no  con- 


DISTRACTION.  235 


sistency  with  itself.  If  you  were  poor  and  insignificant, 
it  might  blame  you.  Being  what  you  are,  it  will  be 
quick  to  find  good  reasons  for  what  you  do.  So  much 
for  your  world  ;  as  for  mine,  I  have  none.  There  is 
no  one  before  whom  I  need  to  vindicate  a  position  which 
has  never  been  questioned  ;  no  one  to  whom  I  wish  to 
display  you.  At  my  house  you  will  see  nobody  except 
my  servants.  I  am  as  weak  and  as  human  as  the  rest 
of  my  kind,  no  doubt,  but  my  weakness  does  not  lie  in 
that  direction.  I  do  not  ask  your  mother  and  yourself 
to  come  to  me  that  I  may  mend  my  reputation  by  aid 
of  your  charity.  I  feel  deeply  that  only  there  where  I 
have  lived  can  you  fairly  judge  whether  (if  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case  you  have  found  any  apology  for 
my  act  toward  your  father)  the  course  of  my  life  since 
has  been  such  as  would  make  me  unfit  for  your  love  and 
society.  You  cannot  be  deceived ;  you  will  not  be 
beguiled.  My  motives  are  before  you,  and  you  must 
judge  them. 

"  You  said  just  now  that  I  knew  how  to  please  you, 
Helen,  dearest ;  and  why  not  ?  You  are  part  of  me  ; 
your  being  is  of  mine  ;  your  pure  mind  and  heart  are 
my  conscience.  I  must  have  absolution  of  it,  —  there 
is  none  other  worth  my  asking.  But  don't  imagine  that 
I  want  to  control  your  life.  Far  from  it.  I  want  you 
to  control  mine.  I  have  always  been  controlled.  Al- 
exandre  just  absorbed  me  in  himself,  and  life  for  me 
was  always  best  and  fullest  when  it  flowed  freely  in  the 
current  of  his'life.  I  know  well  enough  that  we  cannot 
or  may  not  always  live  together.  Parents  who  have 


236  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

better  claim  than  I  do  not  expect  or  wish  to  have  their 
children  always  with  them.  Alice  told  me  truly,  if 
severely,  that  I  had  lost  my  opportunity  for  that.  What 
nature  appoints  I  can  or  I  must  accept.  I  will 'submit 
to  be  parted  from  my  daughter  when  some  one  comes 
to  claim  her,  when  she  is  drawn  away  by  another  and 
more  compelling  love.  What  I  cannot  submit  to  is  that 
my  thoughts  may  not  follow  her ;  that  they  may  not  rise 
like  hers  to  compass  all  the  events  of  her  life  ;  that  hers 
shall  not  come  back  to  penetrate  my  own.  Go,  Helen, 
to  any  career  which  you  propose ;  but  let  my  time,  purse, 
talent  if  I  have  any,  go  with  you  and  help  you  on  your 
way ;  and  when  you  claim  the  congratulation  of  your 
friends  for  your  success,  believe  that  mine  will  come 
from  the  broadest,  nearest,  proudest  interest  which  any 
human  heart  can  feel  for  you ;  or  if,  perchance,  disap- 
pointment, weariness,  sorrow,  or  repulse  should  come  to 
you,  let  me  be  with  you  in  the  cloud  and  in  the  fire." 

"  You  are  so  intense,  mother ;  when  you  begin  to  talk 
in  this  way,  you  overpower  me." 

"  I  know  that  I  am,  dear ;  but,  don't  you  understand, 
if  all  were  fixed  and  accepted  with  us,  it  would  not  be 
so  ?  When  I  begin  to  think  of  losing  you,  or  of  never 
gaining  you,  it  makes  me  so  fierce  and  unhappy  that  I 
become  wordy  and  tiresome.  I  hear  the  baron's  step. 
Shall  I  bid  him  come  in--? " 

"  Pray  do,"  said  Helen.  "  I  was  hoping  to  see  him 
too." 

"  Ah  !  you  here,  Miss  Dysart  ?  This  is  an  unexpected 
pleasure." 


DISTRACTION.  237 


"  Yes  •  I  came  to  thank  both  you  and  Madame  Wal- 
deyer  for  your  care  of-  Mrs.  Dysart.  It  was  a  kindness 
that  we  could  not  have  asked,  that  you  should  give 
up  the  pleasure  of  the  trip  across  the  mountains  to  do 
escort  duty  for  an  invalid,  and  make  the  journey  so 
charming  to  her,  though  it  was  not  new  to  yourselves. 
When  we  were  caught  in  that  driving  storm,  and  had  to 
stumble  on  in  the  dark  and  on  foot,  I  felt  how  wise  as 
well  as  kind  you  had  been  in  dissuading  my  mother 
from  the  attempt." 

"My  dear  Miss  Dysart,  your  mother  would  not  have 
been  caught  in  any  such  storm.  I  should  not  have 
advised  her  to  go  by  the  Col  de  Balme.  We  should 
have  all  crossed  together  by  the  Tete  Noire.  There  was 
no  storm  here  in  Chamouny ;  so,  probably,  there  was  very 
little  there,  and  you  would  have  had  carriage  all  the  way. 
But  we  enjoyed  the  journey  as  much  as  Mrs.  Dysart. 
Every  time  I  cross  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  it  seems  to  me 
more  beautiful  than  ever  before." 

"  Is  it  so  beautiful,  then  ? "  said  Helen. 

"  Exquisitely  so,  and  rich  in  history  and  associations  as 
well,  so  many  famous  names  of  places  and  persons  are 
identified  with  its  shores.  Chillon,  Montreux,  Clarens, 
Vevay,  Lausanne,  Fernex,  Coppet,  Geneva,  —  Byron, 
Ludlow,  Gibbon,  Voltaire,  Madame  de  Stael,  Rousseau, 
Calvin,  —  what  names  are  these  !  And  is  there  in  the 
world  a  drive  more  beautiful  than  that  through  the  val- 
ley of  the  Arve,  between  Geneva  and  Chamouny?  Mrs. 
Dysart  said  that  she  believed  the  drop-curtains  of  all 
the  theatres  in  the  world  had  been  suggested  by  that 


238  MANUELA   PARADES. 

scenery ;  and  the  Lake  of  Como.  I  hope  you  had  some 
pleasure,  in  spite  of  the  storm." 

Then  Helen  told  the  story  of  their  journey,  until  it 
was  time  to  separate. 

The  party  spent  a  week  at  Chamouny,  in  the  usual 
excursions,  and  then  returned  to  Geneva,  where  they 
found  this  letter  from  Julia  to  Helen  awaiting  them  :  — 

GLENWOOD,  July  23. 

DEAR  HELEN,  —  Father  and  Mr.  Audran  have  just 
gone  to  the  nine  o'clock  train,  and  the  house  and  all  in 
it  are  quiet  as  the  grave,  —  except  myself,  and  I  am 
so  excited  that  I  feel  as  though  I  should  never  be  quiet 
again.  To  go  back  to  the  beginning,  your  last,  —  from 
Lucerne,  of  the  28th  of  June,  —  written  just  as  you  were 
starting  on  an  excursion  with  the  Audrans,  was  received 
on  the  1 5th  of  July.  I  don't  know  why  it  was  so  long 
on  the  way.  We  knew  nothing  more  of  you  until  yester- 
day morning,  when  father  sent  up  the  letters  which  Mr. 
Audran  brought,  with  the  message  that  Mr.  Audran  him- 
self would  come  up  with  him  in  the  evening.  You  can 
imagine  what  an  afternoon  I  had  of  it,  all  by  myself.  I 
was  wrought  up  to  such  a  pitch  that  I  could  hardly  wait 
until  supper  was  over  before  attacking  Mr.  Audran  ;  and 
then,  to  my  surprise  and  disgust,  I  found  that  he,  like  the 
rest  of  you,  was  determined  to  think  and  speak  well  of 
the  baroness  and  her  claim.  I  suppose  it  must  be  all 
right,  if  you  agree  together  to  consider  it  so  ;  but  it 
seems  a  strange  thing  to  me  to  find  myself  at  odds  with 
all  my  family  because  I  can't  approve  of  a  woman  who 


DISTRACTION.  239 


left  my  father  to  elope  with  a  Frenchman,  and  aban- 
doned his  daughter  at  six  weeks  of  age  to  the  tender 
mercies  of  strangers,  and  who  now  returns,  nearly  thirty 
years  after,  to  plunder  the  family  which  she  has  out- 
raged. 

I  can't  trust  myself  to  write  to  you  at  present,  lest  I 
should  indulge  in  some  such  tirade  as  that  which  made 
father  send  me  to  bed  last  night,  and,  I  dare  say,  left  Mr. 
Audran  with  the  impression  that  I  was  a  she-dragon  or  a 
termagant  or  anything  else  that  is  awful. 

Well,  either  I  am  very  queer,  or  you  all  are ;  and  upon 
my  word,  I  am  in  doubt  which  it  is.  And,  I  must  say, 
neither  do  I  like  your  Mr.  Audran  altogether.  He  is 
very  reserved,  and  not  at  all  disposed  to  be  frank  with 
regard  to  himself  and  you.  I  know,  as  well  as  though 
he  had  said  so,  that  before  coming  away  he  asked  you  to 
marry  him.  If  you  said  Yes,  it  would  be  no  more  than 
natural  that  he  should  rave  about  you,  but  he  did  n't ; 
and  if  you  said  No,  I  may  venture  to  add  that  he  seemed 
in  a  very  complacent  frame  of  mind  for  a  rejected  lover. 
The  only  solution  of  the  enigma  is,  that  you  said  both 
Yes  and  No  ;  and  that  is  what  puzzles  me  most,  —  that 
you,  who  have  such  lofty  notions  about  plain-dealing 
with  lovers,  should  do  it.  It  is  a  great  piece  of  assur- 
ance in  him,  I  think,  to  imagine  you  could  be  willing  to 
leave  New  York,  and  follow  him  out  to  Colorado,  where 
he  gives  his  energies  to  multiplying  calves  and  lambs. 
Father  takes  to  him  wonderfully ;  and  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  forgive  everything  to  a  man  who  has  saved  your  life, 
and  captivated  your  fancy  at  a  week's  notice.  Still,  I  am 


240  MANUELA   PARADES. 

very  much  mistaken  if,  after  the  glamour  of  that  esca- 
pade in  the  mountains  wears  off,  you  do  not  feel  that 
you  have  made  a  mistake,  and  regret  that  you  were  not 
more  decided  in  your  answer. 

Mr.  Audran  said,  when  I  was  asking  him  about  the 
baroness,  that  he  fancied  she  would  like  to  marry  you  to 
the  baron,  brother  of  her  —  other  baron.  Well,  if  there 
is  to  be  any  marrying  at  all,  I  can  imagine  that  a  dis- 
tinguished soldier,  with  a  title  and  a  castle  and  a  good 
estate  and  a  seat  in  the  French  parliament,  might  please 
my  difficult  sister  —  who  is  not  without  her  ambitions  — 
better  than  a  cow-driver  from  Heaven  knows  where. 
We  could  come  out  and  visit  you  sometimes,  perhaps, 
if  my  lord  deigned  to  speak  us  fair.  O  Helen,  this 
is  really  dreadful  of  me,  I  know,  and  I  ought  to  wait 
until  I  have  seen  Mr.  Audran  again.  I  admit  that 
he  is  handsome,  if  that  is  any  amends.  He  is  coming 
up  with  father  again  to-night,  but  as  the  steamer  day 
is  to-morrow  I  can't  leave  my  letter  open  for  second 
impressions. 

Well,  I  have  blown  off  my  spleen,  and  will  write  by 
Saturday's  steamer,  and  perhaps  take  it  all  back;  at 
any  rate,  I  won't  scold  you  any  more.  Even  if  you 
care  for  this  provokingly  reserved  gentleman,  you  will 
forgive  your  sister  —  who  in  any  event  is  your  /ia/f-s(s- 
ter;  you  can't  get  rid  of  that  —  for  being  a  little  impa- 
tient over  so  much  worriment  and  mystery.  Oh,  how  I 
should  like  to  know  just  how  you  all  feel  about  it  now  ! 
I  shall  write  next  to  mother.  Love  to  her,  to  Eugene, 

and  to  Alice. 

Your  affectionate  JULIA. 


DISTRACTION.  241 


Helen  read  her  letter  eagerly,  and,  though  vexed, 
could  not  help  laughing  over  it.  She  handed  it  to  Mrs. 
Dysart  with  the  comment,  "  That  is  Julia  all  through  "  ; 
and  Mrs.  Dysart,  having  read  it,  added,  "  Yes,  that  is 
Julia.  She  does  not  check  her  feelings  or  measure  her 
words.  It  is  evident  that  your  father  has  not  spoken  to 
her  as  he  did  to  us  about  the  baroness.  She  does  not 
understand  that  the  one  bad  act  of  her  life  was  done 
when  she  was  out  of  her  mind  and  not  responsible, 
and  that  in  everything  else  she  is  so  much  better  and 
more  interesting  than  most  women.  Helen,  has  Madame 
Waldeyer  ever  intimated  any  such  plan  as  this  which 
Julia  speaks  of  ?  I  don't  quite  like  Mr.  Audran's  sug- 
gesting it  to  her." 

"  No,  mother,  never.  She  has  hinted  that  the  baron 
thinks  highly  of  me  ;  that  is  all." 

"  I  can  very  well  understand  Julia's  perplexity  about 
your  relations  to  Mr.  Audran/'  went  on  Mrs.  Dysart, 
"  for  I  am  perplexed  myself.  You  have  not  been  frank 
with  me  on  that  subject,  Helen." 

"  Do  you  think  that  I  ought  to  repeat  anything  that 
Mr.  Audran  may  have  said  to  me  alone,  in  confi- 
dence ? " 

"I  think  that  a  man  who  offers  himself  to  a  lady 
should  expect  that  her  friends  would  be  informed  of 
the  fact." 

"Well,  then,  mamma,  Mr.  Audran  told  me  that  his 
circumstances  did  not  allow  him  to  marry  at  present, 
and  that  our  acquaintance  had  not  been  long  enough  to 
warrant  him  in  making  such  a  suggestion  to  me." 

16 


242  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"I  call  that  a  remarkably  uncivil  communication. 
Declines  with  thanks !  I  don't  wonder  he  went  off 
without  speaking  to  anybody  the  next  morning,  and 
has  not  written  to  anybody  since.  I  hope  you  defined 
your  position  as  clearly  as  he  seems  to  have  defined 
his." 

"  Now  don't  misunderstand  me,  please,  mother.  What 
Mr.  Audran  meant  to  say,  and  what  he  did  say,  was 
that  his  position  at  present  was  not  such  as  he  would 
dare  offer  me,  and  that  he  would  not  venture  to  ask  my 
opinion  of  himself  on  such  short  acquaintance.  That 
was  his  purpose  when  he  came  to  the  interview,  —  I 
know,  for  he  told  me  so,  —  and  I  respect  him  for  it. 
Later  —  perhaps  because  I  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  I  am  interested  in  him,  perhaps  because  I  may 
in  some  way  have  made  him  think  that  it  was  my  wish 
that  he  should  do  so  —  he  did  offer  himself  to  me,  and 
I  told  him  that  I  certainly  would  not  accept  any  offer 
which  it  had  not  been  his  deliberate  intention  to  make. 
So  he  went  away  with  every  right  to  suppose  that  he 
might  come  again  whenever  he  pleased.  There,  mother, 
that  is  the  plain  history.  I  did  not  think  it  a  thing  to  be 
published,  but  I  don't  like  to  be  reproached  for  conceal- 
ment. Of  course  it  is  not  publishing  it  to  tell  it  to  you, 
but  I  should  not  wish  to  have  Mr.  Audran's  name  ban- 
died about  with  mine." 

"  Well,  Helen,  it  is  a  matter  of  taste  and  opinion,  but 
I  should  have  thought  better  of  him  for  not  backing 
and  filling  in  that  way,  and  I  have  a  prejudice  in  favor 
of  a  man  who  does  not  go  beyond  the  limits  of  ordinary 


DISTRACTION.  243 


pleasant  social  intercourse  until  he  is  prepared  to  follow 
up  one  step  with  another." 

"  It  is  very  evident,  mother,  that  we  think  differently 
about  Mr.  Audran,  and  yet  your  words  disturb  me.  You 
know  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  seeking  more  than  what 
you  call  ordinary  pleasant  social  intercourse  with  any- 
body. You  have  been  impatient  with  me  sometimes 
because  you  thought  me,  as  you  said,  '  inaccessible  and 
fastidious,'  and  wondered  that  I  was  not  more  eager  for 
some  other  home  than  my  father's  house.  You  have 
made  me  very  happy  there,  and  I  thank  you  and  love 
you  for  it ;  but  now,  when  the  discovery  comes  that  I 
have  only  half  a  right  there,  —  that  perhaps  my  presence 
threatens  the  peace,  the  position,  and  the  resources  of 
the  family,  —  that  it  would  be  relief  from  a  burden  if  I 
found  an  independent  home  for  myself,  —  when  I  am 
troubled  and  in  doubt,  comes  this  gentleman,  with  the 
culture  of  a  scholar  and  the  record  of  a  gallant  and 
trustworthy  man,  pleasing  me  more,  suiting  me  better, 
than  any  other  man  ever  did,  but  hesitating  to  ask  any- 
thing of  me,  as  I  fully  believe,  out  of  his  great  modesty 
and  respect.  He  sees  me  looking  anywhere,  everywhere, 
for  some  way  out  of  my  great  perplexity,  and  in  his  ten- 
der care  for  me  he  says,  Will  you  take  the  little  help 
I  can  give  ?  It  stings  me  sorely  that  you  should  speak 
so  scornfully  of  his  embarrassment  and  mine.  I  have 
no  right  to  doubt  your  motive,  and  I  do  not;  but  I 
think,  knowing  me  as  you  do,  you  should  believe  that  I 
am  trying  to  choose  the  path  which  shall  be  best  for  all 
who  love  and  care  for  me,  and  am  willing  to  accept 


244  MANUELA  PARADES. 

almost  any  sacrifice  for  myself,  rather  than  your  com- 
fort or  your  happiness  should  be  endangered." 

Never  before  had  Mrs.  Dysart  seen  Helen  so  much 
roused.  Her  cheek  was  flushed,  her  eyes  glittered, 
form-  and  feature  were  instinct  with  the  purpose  to  keep 
her  own  destiny  and  her  own  dignity  in  her  own  hands ; 
and  Mrs.  Dysart  did  not  dare  to  put  another  fraction  of 
pressure  upon  her. 

"  Dear  Helen,  be  calm  ! "  she  said.  "  We  trust  you 
entirely,  all  of  us.  Do  what  is  right  in  your  own  eyes, 
and  we  will  all  stand  or  fall  with  you.  I  am  not  going 
to  say  one  word  more  about  Mr.  Audran.  Happily 
you  are  under  no  pledge  to  him.  But  listen  :  I  have 
had  a  much  better  chance  to  study  Baron  Waldeyer 
than  ever  I  had  to  study  Mr.  Audran,  and  I  cannot  see 
that  in  any  respect  he  is  less  worthy  or  less  interesting. 
No  one  could  be  more  courteous  or  more  helpful  than 
he  has  been  ever  since  we  met.  And  who  is  he  ?  A 
senator  of  France,  a  commander  of  the  Legion  of  Hon- 
or, heir  of  an  honored  name  and  a  fine  estate.  He  and 
all  he  is  and  has  are  coming  straight  to  your  feet.  It  will 
be  in  your  power  to  distinguish  yourself  and  your  family 
by  a  splendid  alliance,  and  to  convert  this  perplexity, 
which  is  so  threatening  for  all  of  us,  into  eclat,  fortune, 
distinction  for  us  all.  I  am  sure  that  this  is  so,  and  that 
over  this  loyal,  tender,  and  heroic  man  you  can  have  all 
the  influence  which  any  woman  ever  had  over  any  man. 
Madame  Waldeyer  has  told  us  what  a  husband  his 
brother  was,  and  I  am  sure  that  the  baron  would  in 
like  manner  be  to  you  all  that  a  husband  need  be.  I 


DISTRACTION.  24$ 


see  in  such  an  event  great  good  for  all  of  us,  but  most 
of  all  for  you.  Your  happiness  is  my  first  consideration 
in  the  matter.  Pray,  believe  that." 

Mrs.  Dysart  spoke  with  the  firmness  of  conviction, 
and  it  was  not  .without  its  influence  upon  Helen. 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  is  not  all  this  premature,  —  a 
fancy  of  your  own  ?  Baron  Waldeyer  has  shown  noth- 
ing but  very  great  politeness  toward  me,  and  that  is  suf- 
ficiently explained  by  his  affection  for  his  sister.  She 
gave  me  a  beautiful  turquoise  the  other  day,  —  you  know 
the  turquoise  turns  yellow  whenever  a  lie  is  near,  —  and 
a  little  after  she  said  that  it  was  no  part  of  her  purpose 
to  commend  the  baron  to  me." 

"  I  dare  say  that  is  true,"  said  her  mother.  "  She  has 
said  nothing  whatever  to  me  on  the  subject ;  but  I  know 
his  admiration  for  you  is  perfectly  spontaneous  and  sin- 
cere, and  just  as  well  I  know  that  such  a  tie  would 
make  her  happy  as  nothing  else  could.  Now,  dear 
Helen,  we  will  not  talk  more  just  now ;  but  think  well 
of  it,  and  be  ready  with  your  answer  when  he  comes 
to  plead  for  himself,  as  he  certainly  will." 

"  I  will  think  of  it.     Good-night,  mamma." 

The  baron  meanwhile  had  been  taking  an  evening 
tour  of  the  shops,  one  result  of  which  Helen  found  on 
her  table  when  she  reached  her  room.  In  a  case  of 
white  vellum  was  a  thin  folio  volume,  bound  in  the  finest 
tree-calf,  with  tracery  of  gold  upon  the  borders.  The 
volume  contained  forty  large  octavo  photographs  of  the 
scenes  which  she  had  visited  under  the  guidance  of 
the  baron,  —  Interlaken,  Miirren,  the  Wengern  Alp,  the 


246  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

ice-cairn  of  Grindelwald,  and  others,  and  this  note,  bear- 
ing the  crest  and  monogram  of  the  Waldeyers :  — 

Will  Miss  Dysart  accept  these  souvenirs  of  the  past 
month,  as  an  acknowledgment  of  the  great  pleasure 
which  her  society  has  conferred  upon 

ADOLPHE  DE  WALDEYER. 

No  imaginable  gift  from  him  could  have  pleased  Hel- 
en more,  and  as  she  turned  the  pages  she  said,  "  This 
will  be  a  treasure  forever,  —  but,  oh  dear!  oh  dear! 
what  shall  I  do  ? " 

With  all  her  heart  she  wished  that  Robert  had  written. 
He  might  have  done  so,  she  thought,  in  all  those  long 
days  upon  the  steamer,  or  since  reaching  New  York. 
If  he  had  started  on  his  five  days'  journey  into  the  heart 
of  the  continent  without  writing,  eighteen  or  twenty  days 
more  must  pass  before  his  letter  could  reach  her.  And 
here  was  the  baron,  about  to  open  siege  on  the  lone  for- 
tress of  her  heart,  supported  by  her  two  mothers,  her 
father,  and,  for  a  wonder,  Julia ;  and  her  only  ally  had 
been  silenced  and  sent  away  to  the  other  side  of  the 
world.  Was  not  all  that  her  mother  had  said,  in  favor 
of  the  baron,  true  ? 

They  were  going  to  visit  the  baroness,  —  Mrs.  Dysart 
was  resolved  upon  it.  Helen  felt  that  the  crisis  of  her 
fate  was  coming.  Why  was  Mr.  Audran  so  silent  ?  Was 
he  also  conscious  of  a  reaction  after  what  Julia  had 
called  "  the  glamour  of  a  mountain  escapade  "  ?  Did 
he  think  their  late  episode  might  as  well  be  forgotten 
for  a  time  ?  Must  she  wait  his  time  ? 


DISTRACTION. 


She  smiled,  and  she  sighed  too,  as  before  her  dressing- 
glass  she  unrobed  her  round  white  shoulders  and  dimpled 
arms ;  and  she  said  to  the  fair  reflection,  half  aloud, 
"  Indeed,  I  ought  to  belong  to  some  man,  and  some 
man  ought  to  belong  to  me.  It  is  a  sin  against  nature 
for  me  to  be  an  old  maid." 


248  MA NUELA 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

IN    COLORADO. 

TV/TR-  "ROBERT  AUDRAN  and  Mr.  James  Dunphy 
•*•*-••  had  alike  decided  to  go  over  the  Atchison,  To- 
peka,  and  Sante  F£  Railway,  which,  at  the  date  of  our 
story,  was  about  to  open  for  travel  the  section  of  the 
road  which  enters  Pueblo  from  the  east.  Each  had 
been  assured  at  Kansas  City  that  the  road  was  already 
open  to  that  point.  The  fact,  however,  was  that  a 
trestle  two  miles  east  of  the  town  had  broken  under  its 
first  trial,  and  that  trains  could  not  go  over  it.  Ignorant 
of  this  fact,  Mr.  Audran  and  Mr.  Dysart,  on  the  even- 
ing of  the  27th  of  July,  left  Kansas  City,  and  Mr.  Dunphy 
still  had  the  start  of  them  by  twelve  hours. 

All  next  day  they  rolled  over  the  endless  swells  and 
swales  of  the  prairie,  keeping  the  flat  and  sharp-cut 
banks  of  the  Arkansas  River  in  sight.  Far  as  eye  could 
reach,  on  the  southern  upland,  great  herds  of  cattle  were 
feeding ;  here  and  there  a  solitary  herder  urged  his  wiry 
Mexican  pony  up  the  long  green  slope,  the  lariat  hang- 
ing in  heavy  loops  from  his  saddle-bow.  All  about 
them  was  the  limitless,  undulating  plain,  with  now  and 
then  a  break  where  the  yellow  limestone  shelved  off  to 
a  lower  level.  Rarely  did  a  sign  of  human  life  appear 


IN  COLORADO.  249 


except  alongside  the  track,  where  an  occasional  gang  of 
laborers  stood  leaning  on  their  spades  as  the  train  went 
hurtling  by,  a  cluster  of  their  grimy  tents  standing  in  the 
background.  Now  and  then  a  convoy  of  canvas-covered 
wagons  was  seen  creeping  over  the  monotonous  green 
distance.  Here  and  there,  on  the  far  horizon,  a  pale 
blue  smoke  showed  that  fire,  first  and  most  manifold  of 
human  tools,  was  at  work.  A  tew  white-bellied  antelopes 
were  feeding  in  some  hollow  of  the  sward,  or  a  prairie- 
dog  village  was  passed,  where  the  gophers  sat  atop  of  a 
little  mound  of  yellow  earth,  and  dived  into  their  bur- 
rows as  the  train  sped  through.  Occasionally  a  mound 
of  white  rose  on  the  sere  surface,  where  the  skeletons  of 
buffalo  lay  bleaching  in  the  constant  sun  and  infrequent 
rains.  At  long  intervals,  on  the  margin  of  some  shallow, 
winding  valley,  where  the  wash  of  the  spring  rains  ran 
down  to  the  Arkansas,  stood  the  sod-walled  and  sod- 
roofed  hut  of  the  homesteader,  and  planted  about  it  the 
sweet-briar,  the  morning  glory,  the  scarlet  creeper,  or 
the  sunflower,  —  showing  that  the  rudest  life  still  counts 
among  its  necessities  some  token  of  grace  and  beauty. 
A  little  after  noon,  at  a  station,  the  telegraph  reported 
that  the  train  in  advance  of  their  own  was  off  the  track, 
from  spreading  of  the  newly  laid  rails.  A  wrecking 
party  had  gone  forward  on  a  hand-car  to  its  aid,  and 
their  own  train  must  wait  until  the  way  was  clear.  The 
passengers,  now  very  few,  got  off,  to  pass  the  weary 
interval  as  best  they  might.  They  were  told  that  the 
locomotive  would  give  three  successive  whistles  before 
the  start.  Robert  proposed  to  Mr.  Dysart  that  they 
should  walk  forward. 


250  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  As  well  walk  forward  as  any  way,"  replied  Mr. 
Dysart.  "  One  mile  of  this  country  is  as  like  any  other 
mile  as  one  section  of  railroad  track  is  like  the  next. 
It  is  more  same  and  wearisome  than  the  sea.  Life  here 
would  be  unendurable." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Robert,  "  it  is  hardly  more  dull  than 
was  northern  Illinois  when  your  life  began.  Your  son 
Eugene  will  live  to  see,  all  over  this  great  American 
desert,  as  it  used  to  be  called,  thick-set  towns,  overhung 
by  smoke  from  factory  chimneys,  cheerful  farm-houses 
nestling  in  groves  of  trees,  and  railroad  trains  every- 
where." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  We  cannot  exactly 
see  what  needs  or  what  forces  are  to  produce  these 
changes ;  but  if  we  wait  long  enough,  there  they  are. 
It  is  not  our  decree,  but  it  comes  about.  Do  you  re- 
member the  closing  couplet  of  Bryant's  hymn  for  the 
inauguration  of  the  Centennial  Exposition  ?  — 

'  Thou  leadest  man,  wandering  bold  but  blind, 
To  mighty  ends  not  yet  revealed.'  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Robert.  "  When  I  saw  the  peasants  on 
the  Rhine,  carrying  earth  in  baskets  to  make  a  little 
painful  terrace  where  a  vine  might  grow,  or  in  the  Alps, 
clearing  hollows  in  the  rock  to  put  in  a  handful  of 
barley,  I  thought  of  the  miles  of  bountiful  soil  waiting 
here,  and  calling  for  some  one  to  come  and  till  and  reap. 
And  they  will  come,  —  the  Saxon,  the  Celt,  and  the 
Scot ;  the  Teuton,  the  Finn,  and  the  Pole  ;  the  Sclav, 
the  Tuscan,  and  the  Iberian,  —  they  will  all  come  and 


IN  COLORADO.  251 


fuse  themselves  into  the  American,  —  a  race  which 
cannot  but  be  the  richest  in  collected  powers  and  ger- 
minal force  which  the  world  has  ever  seen.  They  are 
the  raw  material,  these  new-comers,  and  the  machineries 
of  republican  freedom  will  transform  them  into  a  fabric 
like  our  own." 

"  That  is  well  said,"  added  Mr.  Dysart.  "  It  is  the 
republic,  the  commonwealth,  which  assimilates  them, 
just  as  republican  Rome  assimilated  the  Samnites  and 
Volsci  and  Veii  far  more  completely  than  did  imperial 
Rome  the  Gaul  and  the  Dacian." 

"  And  the  thing  which  has  been  shall  be,"  said  Rob- 
ert. "  It  makes  little  difference  who  lives  or  dies,  who 
reigns  or  administers  :  there  will  be  centralizers  and 
communists,  reformers  and  rings,  zealots  and  sceptics, 
vice  that  destroys  and  virtue  that  redeems ;  but  all  the 
time  a  rising  level,  a  scheme  in  which  one  license  curbs 
another,  and  the  multitude  of  minor  conflicts  prevents, 
because  it  makes  unnecessary,  the  greater  revolutions 
which  must  exist  in  a  less  elastic  order  of  things.  Hark ! 
There  are  the  three  whistles.  We  must  go  back." 

When' they  passed  over  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  they 
were  told  that  the  other  train  was  only  half  an  hour  in 
advance  of  them.  At  half-past  six  they  reached  the  end 
of  the  route.  The  broken  trestle  was  a  mile  ahead  ; 
beyond  that,  two  miles  farther,  lay  Pueblo.  One  by 
one,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  the  passengers  had  dropped 
off.  Robert  and  Mr.  Dysart  only  were  proposing  to 
go  beyond  the  construction  camp  where  the  track  ceased. 
This  consisted  of  five  or  six  freight  or  box  cars,  on  a 


252  MANUELA    PARADES. 

temporary  siding,  in  which  had  been  roughly  fitted  up 
sleeping  and  eating  accommodations  for  those  in  the 
employ  of  the  railroad  company.  A  gang  of  some 
thirty  coarsely  dressed  men  was  lounging  about  them. 
The  prospect  for  a  halt  was  uninviting,  and  Robert  said 
to  Mr.  Dysart,  "  We  must  get  to  Pueblo  somehow,  for 
the  night,  if  we  can.  I  think  it  can  be  done."  And  he 
went  to  reconnoitre. 

On  the  skirts  of  the  crowd,  a  large  sombrero  pulled 
well  down  over  his  eyes,  was  Mr.  James  Dunphy,  who 
had  arrived  half  an  hour  earlier,  and  now  recognized 
with  alarm  Mr.  Dysart  and  Robert  as  they  descended 
from  the  train.  For  him  there  was  but  one  explanation 
of  their  presence  :  they  were  on  his  track,  and  would  be 
at  Mohler  and  David's  mine  to-morrow,  having  with 
them  a  sheriff  for  his  special  benefit.  He  had  a  great 
respect  for  Mr.  Audran's  powers,  which  had  twice  before 
exposed  and  thwarted  him.  Dark  thoughts  came  into 
his  evil  brain  ;  he  skulked  behind  a  car,  and  watched 
the  movements  of  the  pair. 

Robert  hunted  up  the  foreman  of  the  construction 
party,  and  learned  that  a  horse,  and  a  rude  wagon  made 
for  prairie  driving,  was  obtainable,  and  that  it  was  per- 
fectly practicable  to  follow  a  track  made  by  teams,  along 
the  side  of  the  railway,  into  the  town  of  Pueblo.  The 
wagon  would  carry  two,  and  only  two ;  and  Robert  made 
a  bargain  for  the  use  of  it,  and  for  its  return  from 
Pueblo  in  the  morning.  Then  he  went,  back  with  the 
news  to  Mr.  Dysart.  It  would  be  nearly  an  hour  before 
they  could  start,  he  explained,  as  the  horse  had  to  be 


IN   COLORADO.  253 


brought  in  from  the  prairie  and  have  a  feed  of  grain ; 
but  the  drive  would  not  take  more  than  an  hour,  so  that 
they  would  be  housed  in  Pueblo  by  nine  o'clock.  It 
was  not  yet  eight  of  the  summer  evening,  but  night  was 
closing  in  still  and  dark  after  a  hot  day. 

"  We  may  get  wet,"  said  Robert,  as  he  glanced  at  the 
piling  thunder-clouds  which  climbed  the  sky  above  the 
ridge  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  just  before  them.  "  Our 
thunder-showers  here  are  sometimes  very  sharp  and 
sudden.  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Dysart  ? " 

"  Oh,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  would  rather  be 
out  all  night  than  shut  up  with  that  rough  crowd  in  such 
a  vile  place  as  this.  Let  us  go  ahead,  by  all  means." 

"  All  right,  my  dear  sir ;  only  if  you  should  happen 
to  get  a  taste  of  one  of  our  cyclones,  you  will  remember 
it,  I  can  assure  you." 

Jim  Dunphy,  who  had  seen  Robert  at  the  stables,  or 
shanty  used  for  that  purpose,  had  easily  divined  his 
purpose,  even  without  the  assistance  of  the  groom,  who 
informed  him  that  two  gentlemen  were  going  to  drive 
Captain  Talbot's  mare  into  Pueblo,  and  put  her  up  at 
the  Chico  stables. 

"  If  they  get  there,  that  is,"  muttered  Mr.  Dunphy. 
"  They  might  get  struck  by  lightning,  or  something  else, 
first."  He  thought  of  the  repeating-rifle  which  David 
had  instructed  him  to  bring  from  Chicago. 

"  I  '11  let  that  damned  Pharisee  know  that  he  don't 
smash  my  shoulders  with  a  stone  and  cut  my  ear  with  a 
bullet  for  nothing,"  he  meditated.  "  It 's  my  turn  to  shoot 
now,  with  something  to  be  depended  on.  A  revolver  is 


254  MANUEL  A   PA  REDES. 

handy  enough  in  a  scrimmage,  but  it  ain't  like  a  long- 
range  rifle,  calibre  45,  and  sixteen  balls  in  the  breech." 
He  looked  carefully  at  his  gun,  and  then  walked  rapidly 
up  the  track. 

It  was  already  very  dark  when  Robert  and  Mr.  Dysart 
started.  The  heat-lightning  was  flashing  vividly  in  the 
northwest,  and  by  its  glow  the  solemn  forms  of  the  great 
mountains,  from  the  two  Spanish  Peaks  in  the  south  to 
the  black  Chian  in  the  north,  were  outlined.  They  had 
not  accomplished  the  first  mile  when  the  gathering 
storm  thickened  about  them.  Far  away  in  the  hills 
they  heard  its  roar,  as  they  tore  along  the  road,  blinded 
and  dazzled  by  the  lightning,  which  now  seemed  rather 
to  blaze  than  to  flash ;  wreaths  and  scrolls  of  flame 
seemed  to  dance  upward  from  the  ground  around  them, 
and  to  sweep  and  sway  along  the  surface. 

They  were  just  at  the  entrance  of  a  ravine,  which  de- 
scended toward  the  river  along  a  little  stream.  On  the 
right  and  above  them  was  a  limestone  shelf,  at  times  re- 
ceding from  and  at  times  approaching  the  road ;  on  the 
left  a  grassy  meadow,  running  up  to  the  low  bluff.  The 
mare  was  restive ;  she  seemed  terribly  frightened,  and 
began  to  rear  and  plunge ;  then,  as  the  rain  swept  down 
in  a  flood  borne  on  a  whirlwind,  she  stopped  short 
and  would  not  move,  but  threw  her  head  wildly  up, 
snorted,  and  whinnied.  Robert  sprang  to  her  head, 
and,  turning  it  from  the  blinding  rain,  held  her  fast 
by  the  bridle.  The  glow  of  lightning  was  almost  in- 
cessant, and  Mr.  Dysart  too  got  out  and  stood  at  the 
other  side  of  the  beast.  Jim  Dunphy  lay  on  the  low 


IN  COLORADO.  255 


limestone  bluff  above,  thirty  yards  to  the  right,  rest- 
ing his  rifle  on  a  pile  of  white  stone.  By  the  quick- 
coming  flashes  he  got  and  corrected  his  range,  and  that 
range  covered  Robert,  Mr.  Dysart,  and  the  head  of  the 
horse  between  them. 

"  What 's  that  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Dysart,  as  a  flash  leaped 
from  the  ground  above,  and  something  whizzed  over 
their  heads.  "  Can  it  be  lightning  ?  " 

It  was  dark  for  a  moment,  then  another  blaze  of 
lightning  showed  the  two  men  standing  by  the  horse's 
head.  Again  the  flash  sprang  from  the  bluff  and  the 
whizzing  sound  was  heard. 

"  Clear  the  wagon  and  drop  on  the  ground  ! "  said 
Robert,  in  a  quick,  low  tone.  "  Some  rascal  has  got 
rifle  range  on  us." 

Mr.  Dysart  flung  himself  off  a  few  paces,  and  lay  on 
his  face  in  the  grass.  Robert  still  stood  at  the  horse's 
head.  Again  the  flash  sprang  from  the  ground,  and  a 
slight  sting  on  the  shoulder  told  him  that  he  was  hit. 

"  The  mare  must  take  care  of  herself,"  thought  he ; 
and  he  threw  himself  in  the  grass,  and,  with  slightly 
raised  head,  scanned  the  knoll  whence  the  flash  came. 
The  rain-cloud  had  passed,  but  the  lightning  still  blazed  ; 
and  with  the  next  flash  Robert  saw,  not  thirty  yards  away, 
the  gleam  of  a  rifle-barrel  over  a  pile  of  white  stones, 
and  a  man's  head  behind  it.  He  crawled  ten  yards 
one  side,  and  lay  still  in  the  grass.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  Should  he  lie  still  until  he  was  discovered,  and 
again  fired  upon  ?  There  !  A  blinding,  quivering  gleam 
sprang  into  his  eyes,  a  rattling,  crashing  sound  struck 


256  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

through  his  head,  and  with  it  the  flash  of  thought,  — 
killed! 

But  a  moment  after,  rolling  in  the  wet  grass  and  in 
the  darkness,  bewildered,  weak,  he  yet  knew  that  he  was 
not  killed  ;  for  he  heard  the  ripping  rattle  of  the  wagon, 
as  the  mare  wrenched  herself  out  of  the  shafts,  and 
dashed  away.  He  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  white  pile  of 
stones,  and  waited  for  the  next  flash.  He  did  not  see  the 
gleam  of  the  rifle.  Again.  Still  he  did  not  see  it.  He 
crept  up  through  the  weeds.  Again,  at  ten  yards,  he  saw 
only  a  head  and  an  outstretched  arm.  Quick  as  thought 
he  sprang  toward  the  figure,  and  launched  himself 
prone  upon  it.  No  grasp  tightened  upon  him.  He  had 
seized  and  was  holding  in  his  clinch  an  unmoving  form. 

He  drew  himself  back  upon  his  knees  ;  and  the  next 
glare  of  lightning  showed  beneath  him  a  livid  face  and 
frothing  lips.  He  fumbled  darkly  at  the  chest  for  the 
heart ;  but  ne  beat  was  felt  within.  Then  he  called 
loudly,  "Dysart,  come  up  here!  He's  dead!  he's 
dead  ! " 

So  it  was.  The  flash  which  had  almost  stunned  Rob- 
ert had  leaped  along  that  barrel  of  steel ;  swiftly  flowed 
its  fine  wave  through  brain  and  marrow,  and  all  was 
over. 

Drenched  and  dizzy,  the  two  men  kneeled  over  the 
dead,  and  Robert  exclaimed,  with  a  shudder,  "  It  is  Jim 
Dunphy,  Mr.  Dysart ;  it  is  the  man  I  drove  away  from 
your  house  on  the  river.  Thank  God,  he  did  not  die  by 
my  hand,  nor  you  and  I  by  his  !  " 

The   lightning  still  flickered  along  the   ragged  and 


IN  COLORADO.  257 


drooping  edges  of  the  black  clouds  which  were  whirling 
toward  the  southeast ;  but  through  the  breaking  rift  in 
the  north  the  scattered  stars  shone,  and  round  them  the 
air  was  still,  and  full  of  spring-like  odor.  Far  off  and 
faintly  came  the  galloping  tramp  of  the  mare,  as  she 
sped  back  to  her  stable ;  and  in  another  moment  the 
waning  moon,  which  a  month  before  had  lighted  Robert 
on  the  crest  of  Mount  Rigi,  shone  fitfully  out  of  the 
scattering  clouds. 

A  shattered  stock,  parted  from  the  barrel,  was  all  that 
was  left  of  the  gun  which  had  carried  their  death  in  its 
chambers  ;  and  limp  and  flaccid  lay  the  hand  which  had 
covered  the  trigger. 

"  Merciful  God  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Dysart,  "  what  an 
hour  of  wrath  and  retribution  !  " 

"  Let  us  see  if  he  had  your  papers  on  him,"  said  Rob- 
ert; and,  thrusting  his  hand  into  the  inside  pocket  of 
Dunphy's  vest,  he  drew  forth  a  morocco  wallet,  —  the 
same  which  had  been  snatched  from  Mr.  Dysart's  table 
barely  a  week  before. 

In  the  misty  moonlight  Mr.  Dysart  recognized  the  pa- 
pers, maps,  and  contract  which  had  brought  such  peril  to 
him  and  such  sudden  doom  to  their  holder. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  next  ?  "  he  asked. 

Robert  thought  a  moment,  and  looked  at  his  watch, — 
half-past  nine.  "  That  horse  will  be  back  in  his  stable 
in  ten  minutes,  and  most  likely  a  searching  party  will 
be  sent  out  for  us  in  the  course  of  an  hour.  We  might 
go  to  meet  it.  But  that  will  keep  us  under  watch  and 
in  turmoil  all  night.  I  think  we  would  better  walk  into 

17 


258  MANUELA  PARADES. 

Pueblo.  From  the  shape  of  this  ravine,  we  must  be 
near  the  basin  in  which  the  town  stands." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  We  will  leave 
notice  where  we  can  be  found  to-morrow." 

Robert  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-book,  and  wrote  as 
follows :  — 

"  This  man  shot  three  times  at  us,  at  short  range,  in 
the  storm,  and  would  have  killed  us,  if  a  stroke  of  light- 
ning had  not  killed  him.  We  have  gone  on  foot  to  the 
Lindell  House,  Pueblo,  where  we  can  be  seen  to- 
morrow. 

"  ROBERT  AUDRAN,  of  Fountain,  Col. 
"  ADRIAN  DYSART,  of  New  York." 

Taking  each  his  satchel  from  the  overturned  wagon, 
the  two  friends  went  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  dark 
ravine ;  and  there  before  them,  not  half  a  mile  away, 
shone  the  lights  of  Pueblo. 

An  hour  later  the  loafers  in  the  billiard-room  of  the 
Lindell  House  were  wondering  who  those  swell  fellows 
could  be  who  looked  as  if  they  had  had  such  a  devilish 
good  ducking.  The  prevailing  opinion  was  that  they 
had  strayed  from  the  Government  Survey  in  the  South 
Park. 

Among  the  papers  found  in  the  pocket-book  was  a 
letter  from  Mohler  to  Dunphy,  promising  him  a  fifth 
interest  in  the  mine,  if  he  recovered  the  contract  from 
Mr.  Dysart,  and  half  the  face-value  of  any  notes  recov- 
ered with  it. 


IN  COLORADO.  259 


Wet  and  weary  as  they  were,  there  yet  remained  some- 
thing for  Messrs.  Audran  and  Dysart  to  do.  This  was 
to  find  a  magistrate,  make  report  of  such  facts  as  it 
was  necessary  to  communicate,  and  obtain  assurance 
that  at  daylight  a  guard  should  be  placed  over  Dunphy's 
remains,  and  an  inquest  held  at  nine  o'clock.  After  this, 
Robert  telegraphed  to  his  partner  to  expect  him  the  next 
day  ;  and  Mr.  Dysart  arranged  that  Mohler  and  David 
should  be  summoned  to  meet  him  at  Mr.  Audran's  house 
on  the  day  after  the  morrow. 

At  the  hour  appointed  for  the  inquest  the  sunlit  bluff 
where  the  body  of  Dunphy  lay  was  crowded  by  men, 
among  whom  were  the  foreman  of  the  railroad  camp, 
the  magistrate,  coroner,  phys'ician,  and  a  number  of  citi- 
zens summoned  by  the  coroner.  The  doctor  proceeded 
to  make  his  examination  as  an  expert.  No  external 
wound  or  bruise  was  found,  except  the  partially  healed 
cut  upon  the  left  ear  which  had  been  made  by  Robert's 
pistol  at  Glenwood,  and  a  black  and  blue  bruise  from 
the  blow  of  the  stone  between  his  shoulders.  The 
body  showed  none  of  the  rigidity  which  quickly  follows 
death  ;  an  artery  was  opened  in  the  arm,  and  a  stream 
of  dark  blood  flowed  from  it ;  the  right  eyeball  was 
burst  and  collapsed,  and  the  brow  and  lashes  singed  or 
burnt  away.  The  physician  pronounced  that  the  man 
had  died  by  lightning,  which  probably  had  passed  along 
the  barrel  of  his  gun  to  the  eye  nearest  the  breech,  and 
so  to  the  brain  ;  and  the  jury  gave  verdict  in  accordance 
with  this  testimony.  The  magistrate  released  Mr.  Au- 
dran and  Mr.  Dysart  from  observation,  and  directed 


260  MANUELA   PARADES. 

burial  on  the  spot  where  the  body  lay  ;  and  Robert  and 
his  friend  took  the  noon  train  for  Fountain,  twenty  miles 
northward  from  Pueblo. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  into  what  sort  of  a  place  you  are 
going  when  you  go  to  my  house  ?  "  said  Robert,  as  they 
neared  the  end  of  their  journey. 

"  No,  my  dear  sir,  I  have  not  speculated  upon  the 
subject  in  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Robert,  "  that  a  large  proportion 
of  the  inhabitants  of  this  region  would  think  it  even 
less  attractive  than  that  camp  of  which  you  said  such 
uncomplimentary  things  last  night.  There  was  some 
life  and  stir  there :  there  is  only  silence  and  solitude  at 
my  home ;  and  the  house  in  which  I  live  would  not  rent 
in  the  suburbs  of  New  York  for  fifty  dollars  a  year." 

They  were  passing,  as  he  spoke,  through  the  little 
hamlet  of  Fountain, — twenty  or  thirty  small  houses  clus- 
tered about  the  railroad  station:;  and  beyond,  on  the 
hillside  toward  the  east,  Robert  pointed  out  a  low 
building,  draped  with  vines.  "There  is  my  house," 
said  he. 

Mr.  Dysart  looked  about  him.  They  were  in  a  val- 
ley, the  bottom  of  which  was  not  more  than  half  a  mile 
across.  The  western  wall  of  this  valley  rose  rapidly 
into  mountains,  scantily  clothed  with  dark  and  stunted 
pines,  the  eastern  climbed  by  irregular  terraces  to  the 
border  of  that  great  upland  plain  which  slopes  gradu- 
ally from  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Ozark  Range  of 
Missouri,  five  hundred  miles  away.  North  and  south, 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  appeared  the  foothills  of  the 


IN  COLORADO.  26l 


Rocky  Range.  In  the  northwest,  over  the  bold  shoulder 
of  Chian  Mountain,  rose  the  vast  cone  of  Pike's  Peak, 
bare  and  brown  save  for  streaks  of  snow  in  its  ravines ; 
and  dim  in  the  southwest  the  Greenhorn  and  Sangue  di 
Christo  Ranges  and  the  blue,  twin  Spanish  Peaks  reared 
their  lofty  heads. 

"  It  is  hard  to-  realize  that  those  mountains  are  as 
high  or  higher  than  Mont  Blanc,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  or 
that  the  bottom  of  this  valley  where  we  stand  is  itself 
higher  than  Mount  Washington  or  any  mountain  east  of 
the  Mississippi.  There  are  none  of  the  grand  effects  of 
the  Swiss  mountains  or  the  Mexican.  Why  are  they  not 
covered  with  snow,  as  most  high  mountains  are,  even  in 
the  tropics  ? " 

"  They  are  for  eight  months  in  the  year,"  replied 
Robert ;  "  but  never  with  such  masses  of  snow  as  lie  on 
the  Swiss  mountains.  Standing  in  this  deep  interior  of 
the  continent,  the  winds  which  sweep  up  from  the  Pa- 
cific drop  their  burden  of  water  on  the  western  or  snowy 
range,  and  those  from  the  Gulf  and  the  Atlantic  are 
lost  and  dried  out  in  the  vast  sweep  of  arid  country 
over  which  they  pass  before  they  get  to  us.  Our  rain- 
fall is  only  about  a  third  as  much  as  that  of  the  Atlan- 
tic coast.  Rains  and  forests  are  the  great  lack  here. 
How  they  always  go  together,  —  wood  and  water ! 
Each  generates  and  perpetuates  the  other. 

"There  is  a  specimen  of  what  irrigation  will  do  in 
that  wheat-field  of  mine,"  he  went  on,  pointing  to  a  field 
of  about  ten  acres  on  the  slope  beyond.  "  Do  you  see 
on  the  upper  edge  a  line  which  runs  round  the  knolls 


262  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

northward  toward  the  river?  That  is  my  ditch,  in  which 
a  clear  stream  is  always  flowing.  It  is  hidden  on  the 
upper  border  of  this  field  by  the  growing  grain.  Once  in 
fifteen  feet  along  the  top  of  this  field  it  is  tapped,  and  a 
thread  of  water  from  each  breach  runs  down  the  slope 
until  absorbed  by  the  thirsty  soil.  That  field  will  yield 
at  least  forty-five  bushels  to  the  acre,  —  five  times  as 
much  as  the  Genesee  valley  yields,  three  times  as  much 
as  the  Iowa  prairie,  twice  as  much  as  eastern  Kansas ; 
and  the  crop  is  sure  because  the  conditions  are  certain. 
The  field  is  never  to  lack  water  and  never  to  have  ex- 
cess, because  the  supply  is  exactly  measured  to  its 
needs.  If  the  Lybian  sands  of  Egypt  have  been  one  of 
the  world's  granaries  for  four  thousand  years,  by  the  aid 
of  irrigation,  why  should  not  ours  become  so  as  well  ? 

"  Do  you  see  that  green  hill  which  pushes  into  the 
valley,  a  mile  down  there,  and  the  buildings  on  it? 
That  is  my  new  estate,  —  Maritana.  There  you  will 
find  a  house  somewhat  better  than  this.  But  come  in, 
my  dear  sir,  and'  let  us  see  what  we  can  do  for  you." 

The  house  was  certainly  plain  enough,  as  Robert  had 
said.  In  its  first  estate  it  had  been  simply  an  oblong 
box,  twelve  feet  wide  and  twice  as  long,  with  a  roof  of 
double  pitch,  making  within  one  long,  narrow  room, 
nine  feet  high,  and  a  capacious  attic  overhead.  On 
either  side  of  this  Robert  had  bpilt  a  fiat-roofed  addi- 
tion, of  equal  width  with  the  central  portion,  but  not  so 
high,  these  additions  extending  somewhat  farther  toward 
the  rear.  The  whole  was  not  unlike  one  of  those 
little  wooden  churches,  with  nave  and  transepts,  which 


IN  COLORADO.  263 


are  so  common  at  seaside  watering-places.  Each  addi- 
tion was  partitioned  into  two  rooms.  In  the  south 
transept  were  Mr.  Audran's  quarters,  in  the  north  Mr. 
Maxwell's,  the  middle  building  serving  as  a  common 
dining-room  and  office,  being  divided  for  that  purpose 
by  a  Japanese  screen. 

Robert's  quarters  were  not  unattractive.  Bookcases, 
shoulder  high,  ran  round  the  sides  of  the  sitting-room, 
surmounted  by  bronzes,  busts,  and  statuettes.  A  few 
small  paintings  of  some  merit  hung  on  the  walls,  and 
every  available  space  was  filled  with  photographs,  en- 
gravings, and  woodcuts.  A  Smyrna  rug  covered  the 
floor ;  a  Damascus  hanging  curtained  the  door  into 
his  sleeping-room  ;  over  the  fireplace  were  the  crossed 
swords,  the  pistols,  and  the  cap,  of  his  military  days. 
Souvenirs  of  many  lands,  types  of  many  races,  and 
relics  of  many  eras  had  met  to  ornament  this  little 
room  upon  the  frontier.  The  nucleus  of  a  library,  in 
law,  history,  classics,  and  science,  stood  on  the  shelves, 
beside  herd-books,  turf-registers,  dictionaries  of  the  arts, 
and  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica.  The  south  window, 
shaded  by  a  deep  awning,  looked  out  over  beds  of 
flowers  to  the  green  and  misty  plain. 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  ' '  I  did  not  know  to 
what  sort  of  a  place  I  was  going.  Your  room  here, 
Mr.  Audran,  speaks  of  all  space  and  all  time  ;  and  yet 
I  cannot  see  it  without  feeling,  as  my  daughters  do, 
that  the  world  of  men,  rather  than  the  wilds  of  nature, 
is  your  rightful  home." 

"  So  I  once  hoped,"  said  Robert ;  "  but  Providence 


264  MANUELA   PARADES. 

closed  that  career  for  me  with  a  ball  through  my  lungs, 
at  Spottsylvania.  I  doubtless  owe  my  life  to  the  healing 
of  Nature  here  in  her  far  and  uncontaminated  home. 
When  I  came  to  Colorado,  three  years  ago,  I  was  a  pale, 
stooping  invalid,  unable  to  breathe  without  pain,  and 
with  nerves  which  allowed  little  sleep  and  no  intellect- 
ual labor ;  and  now  I  feel  my  youth  renewed.  To  live 
was  the  first  necessity  with  me  then,  and  I  could  hardly 
have  found  elsewhere  a  climate  so  restorative,  or  so 
fair  a  road  to  fortune  and  to  leisure,  as  I  found  here. 
There  is  a  fair  amount  of  satisfaction,  too,  in  my  work. 
If  my  irrigation  methods  prove  a  success,  they  will  make 
the  population  of  this  region  possible ;  a  vast  area  of 
fruitless  soil  will  become  productive ;  the  mining  indus- 
try of  these  hills  will  be  made  practicable  by  cheapened 
supplies.  Human  use  and  profit,  life  and  its  rewards, 
will  be  everywhere.  You  must  see  my  Durhams  and 
Devons,  and  then  you  will  know  that  when  I  make  a 
sale,  I  not  only  put  money  in  my  own  purse,  but  am 
starting  improved  breeds  of  cattle  for  others,  to  thrive 
and  increase  after  I  am  gone.  So  I  am  content  here,  — 
I  have  been,  at  least ;  and  if,  by  chance,  when  first  I 
walk  Broadway,  or  sit  in  the  library  at  Cambridge,  I  fall 
to  thinking  of  my  life  as  one  of  exile,  it  is  not  long  be- 
fore I  weary  of  drones  and  drudges  and  dolls,  and  am 
ready  to  come  back  to  mountains  and  plains,  ditches 
and  cattle." 

"  I  can  understand  it  and  believe  it,"  said  Mr.  Dysart. 
"And  we  who  live  in  the  world  owe  great  thanks  to 
such  as  you,  who  start  the  streams  of  industry  and  trade 


IN  COLORADO.  26$ 


by  which  we  live.  The  world  needs  just  this  work ; 
and  how  could  it  be  better  done  than  by  such  as  you, 
who  bring  knowledge  and  inspiration  to  mould  the  des- 
tinies of  these  new  States  ?  "  And  the  longer  he  stayed, 
the  more  this  feeling  grew  on  Mr.  Dysart. 

About  noon  of  the  following  day,  Messrs.  Mohler  and 
David  made  their  appearance  at  the  ranch,  and  found 
Mr.  Dysart  awaiting  them.  Mohler  came  forward  to 
meet  him,  with  apparent  frankness  and  complacency. 
"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Dysart  ?  We  were  not  expecting 
to  see  you,  but  are  glad  of  it,  notwithstanding.  How 
comes  it  that  you  are  out  here  ?  " 

"  I  had  the  opportunity  of  Mr.  Audran's  very  good 
company,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  and  I  thought  it  was  time 
to  see  for  myself  about  this  mine.  How  are  you  get- 
ting on  ?  " 

"  Well,  fairly.  We  are  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  on 
the  vein  from  the  bottom  of  the  incline,  and  have  about 
six  hundred  tons  on  the  dump,  that  will  go,  perhaps, 
$30  a  ton, —  $20,000  in  that* pile." 

Mr.  Mohler  was  careful  not  to  say  that  the  entire 
product  of  the  last  month  would  average  not  less  than 
$200  to  the  ton. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  that  is  a  fair  if  not  a  great 
return  for  your  capital  and  labor.  Mr.  Mohler,  do  you 
know  a  man  named  James  Dunphy  ?  " 

The  partners  exchanged  a  startled  glance,  but  Mohler 
answered  promptly,  "  Yes  ;  he  worked  for  us  awhile,  but 
we  discharged  him  a  fortnight  ago,  and  he  left  for  New 
York,  I  believe.  Has  he  called  upon  you  ?  " 


266  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Did  you  employ  him  to  do  any  business  for  you  in 
New  York  ?  "  continued  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  I  asked  him  to  bring  me  a  Winchester  rifle  when  he 
came  back,"  said  David. 

"  I  have  here  a  letter,"  continued  Mr.  Dysart,  drawing 
a  paper  from  his  pocket,  "  apparently  from  Mr.  Mohler 
to  this  Dunphy,  offering  him  an  interest  of  one  fifth  in 
the  mine  in  case  he  should  recover  the  contract  which 
you  made  with  me,  and  one  half  the  face  of  any  of  your 
notes  recovered  with  it.  Your  agent,  Dunphy,  entered 
my  house  at  night,  gagged  and  robbed  me,  and  escaped 
with  all  you  bade  him  recover  ;  and  not  forty-eight 
hours  ago  he  shot  at  Mr.  Audran  and  myself,  and 
would  have  killed  us  if  he  had  not  first  been  killed  by  a 
stroke  of  lightning.  You  will  find  the  details  in  this 
morning's  Pueblo  paper,  if  they  interest  you.  And  now 
I  show  you  the  contract,  to  recover  which  you  have 
twice  put  my  life  in  danger,  and  that  of  Mr.  Audran, 
which  is  quite  as  valuable.  Perhaps  you  had  belter 
retire  and  digest  the  situation  before  I  hear  from  you. 
I  believe  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  just  now." 

The  two  men,  whom  Mr.  Dysart  had  not  allowed  to 
sit  down,  became  very  unsteady  on  their  feet,  and  went 
out  of  the  door  without  a  word. 

Mr.  Dysart  and  Robert  saw  them  go  a  little  way 
down  the  lawn,  and  sit  down  on  a  bank.  In  half 
an  hour  they  came  back,  and  Mohler  addressed  Mr. 
Dysart :  — 

"  Do  you  believe,  sir,  that  we  had  a  hand  in  any  plan 
for  robbing  and  murder,  or  would  have  had  anything  to 


IN  COLORADO.  267 


do  with  Dunphy  if  we  had  known  that  he  thought  of 
such  a  thing?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Dysart  ;*  "  it  looks  to  me  very 
like  it." 

"  May  I  ask,  then,  what  you  intend  to  do  about  it  ?  " 
said  Mohler. 

"  You  may,"  answered  Mr.  Dysart.  "  I  intend  to  see 
you  punished,  if  not  as  you  deserve,  at  least  so  far  as 
the  law  will  admit." 

"  Surely,  we  can  settle  the  matter  on  some  terms,  Mr. 
Dysart,"  interposed  David. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  the  terms  are  these :  I  own  seven 
twelfths  of  your  mine ;  you,  five.  On  the  basis  of  my 
investment,  your  share  is  worth  ten  thousand  dollars  ; 
mine,  fourteen.  For  the  sum  of  two  thousand  dollars, 
which  I  here  show  you,  you  are  to  give  a  deed  of  your 
interest  in  the  mine,  and  all  the  mining  property  of  all 
sorts,  to  Mr.  Robert  Audran.  The  sheriff  will  hold  a 
warrant  for  you,  on  a  charge  of  robbery  and  attempt  to 
kill ;  two  days  will  be  given  you  to  get  out  of  the  State. 
Beyond  that  time,  the  state  prison  is  the  only  place  in  it 
which  is  open  for  you." 

"  Come,  David,"  said  Mohler,  "we  '11  get  out  of  this." 

"  Stop !  "  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  You  had  better  not 
step  into  the  hands  of  the  officer.  He  is  in  the  hall. 
If  you  go  through  that  door,  his  hand  will  be  on  you  for 
ten  years  or  more.  The  terms  I  offer  are  the  best  you 
will  ever  get.  Your  partner  has  paid  for  your  crime 
and  his  with  his  life.  I  give  you  yours,  and  the  chance 
to  rid  the  State  of  your  vile  presence.  There  may  be  a 


268  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

place  where  you  can  breathe  freely  and  have  such  chance 
as  you  will  allow  yourselves  to  make  an  honest  living. 
Here  there  is  but  one  .safe  place  for  you,  felons  and 
thieves  as  you  are." 

"  Don't  be  so  damned  hard  on  a  fellow  when  he  is 
down !  Would  you  strip  us  of  all  our  property  and  all 
our  hopes  at  once  ? "  whined  Mohler. 

"  I  have  told  you  what  I  will  do  to-day.  I  give  you 
liberty  and  hope, — both  forfeit,  —  and  I  take  your 
mine,  which,  on  your  showing,  will  barely  return  me  my 
money.  To-morrow  I  will  take  your  mine  and  your 
liberty  together.  Here  is  Mr.  Maxwell,  a  notary  public 
of  the  county ;  here  are  the  maps  and  plans  certified  by 
the  county  clerk,  the  record  of  your  location  and  your 
claim.  Sign  that  deed,  or  within  fifteen  minutes  you 
will  go  to  jail.  Now  take  your  choice." 

The  men  conferred  together  for  a  moment,  and  then 
Mohler  said,  "  It 's  all  up  with  us.  We  '11  sign." 

Mr.  Dysart  stepped  to  the  hall-door,  and  called, 
"  Sheriff  Hawkins  and  Mr.  Maxwell,  will  you  please 
step  in  ? "  The  two  entered,  and  Mr.  Dysart  continued, 
"  Gentlemen,  there  has  been  difficulty  between  Mohler 
and  David  and  myself.  I  was  injured,  and  proposed  to 
have  them  arrested  ;  but  the  matter  will  be  arranged 
between  us  if  they  freely  sign  this  deed  of  the  Clarita 
mine  and  all  the  property  to  Mr.  Robert  Audran,  for  the 
consideration  of  two  thousand  dollars.  They  have  said 
they  will  do  so,  and  I  would  like  to  have  you  witness 
their  signature." 

He  pushed  the  deed  across  the  table,  and  the  two 


IN  COLORADO.  269 


men  signed  it.  Mr.  Audran  pushed  over  the  table  four 
five-hundred-dollar  bills;  they  took  them,  and  rose  to 
leave. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  The  civil 
process  is  hereby  at  an  end,  but  there  is  a  criminal 
charge  against  them  as  well ;  and,  sheriff,  I  give  you 
warrant  to  arrest  them  on  Saturday  morning,  if  they  can 
be  found  in  the  State.  You  will  please  to  take  notice." 

But  Saturday  morning  saw  the  pair  far  on  their  way 
to  Idaho,  beyond  pursuit. 

"Now,  Mr.  Audran,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "five  twelfths 
of  this  mine  is  your  property,  and  you  will  have  a  gen- 
eral supervision  of  it.  You  shall  pay  me  two  thousand 
dollars  when  your  share  has  realized  you  that  sum,  — 
not  till  then.  Anything  more  must  be  considered  as 
your  salary  for  supervision." 


2/0  MANUELA   PARADES. 


CHAPTER     XVII. 

HOHENTAUBEN. 

"XTOT  anticipating  a  long  stay  at  Geneva,  Mrs.  Dysart 
•*-  ^  had  telegraphed  from  Chamouny  to  Paris,  ordering 
her  letters  sent  to  the  baroness's  chateau,  near  Colmar. 
But  day  after  day  the  beautiful  shores  of  Lake  Lenian 
beguiled  them  on,  and  Julia's  promised  letter  lay  mean- 
time with  others  at  Hohentauben.  Their  only  tidings 
from  home,  therefore,  was  this  line,  written  by  Mr.  Dy- 
sart, on  the  day  of  his  hurried  start  for  Colorado  :  — 

GLENWOOD,  July  24. 

DEAREST  EUGENIA, — Julia  has  written  you  a  full 
account  of  the  burglary  and  attack,  which  might  have 
ended  Heaven  only  knows  how,  if  Mr.  Audran  had  not 
appeared. 

My  loss  is  serious,  and  my  only  chance  to  recover  is 
in  instant  pursuit.  So  I  go  to  Colorado  to-night  with 
Mr.  Audran,  who  seems  to  be  the  good  genius  of  the 
family.  I  shall  write  every  day  or  two,  and  Julia  will 
keep  you  informed  of  things  at  home. 

Meantime,  keep  Manuela  quiet.  Don't  let  us  have  too 
many  kinds  of  turmoil  on  our  hands  at  once.  Assure 


HOHENTA  UBEN. 


Helen  that  she  shall  not  regret  any  concession  which 
she  may  make  to  prevent  trouble.  Love  to  her  and 
Eugene. 

Affectionately,  ADRIAN  DYSART. 

Of  course  this  letter  was  unintelligible  to  the  family. 
Of  burglary  and  violence  they  knew  nothing  ;  but  two 
things  were  clear,  —  Mr.  Dysart  had  suffered  some  se- 
rious loss,  and  he  could  not,  even  in  a  hurry,  forget  to 
urge  on  all  the  family  that  the  baroness  was  to  be  con- 
ciliated. This  naturally  added  to  Mrs.  Dysart's  desire 
to  go  to  Hohentauben  ;  and,  on  the  day  after  the  receipt 
of  this  letter,  the  party  started. 

The  express  train  from  Geneva  to  Colmar  requires 
twelve  hours  for  the  transit,  —  too  long  a  journey  for 
Mrs.  Dysart  ;  and  it  was,  therefore,  arranged  that  their 
first  stage  should  be  Bale,  and  thence  to  Hohentauben 
on  the  second  day.  The  baroness  urged  with  much  cor- 
diality that  Walter  should  make  one  of  the  party  ;  and 
he  was  easily  persuaded  to  do  so. 

At  Colmar  they  found  the  carriages  of  the  chateau 
waiting  to  receive  them.  The  valleys  of  the  Weiss  and 
the  Fecht,  entering  those  of  the  111  and  the  Rhine  at 
Colmar  from  the  west,  unite  to  form  a  fair,  wide  basin 
of  level  and  fertile  land,  encircled  by  mountains. 

Over  excellent  roads,  through  avenues  of  willows  and 
tall  poplars,  and  "  garden,  field,  and  fold  studding  the 
billowy  sweep  of  ripened  grain,"  to  the  bridge  across  the 
Fecht,  afnd  upward  along  its  wooded  banks,  through  a 
close-walled  ravine,  where  overhead  tall  walnut-trees 


2/2  MANUELA   PARADES. 

filtered  a  checkered  sunlight  down  on  moss-grown  rocks 
and  dashing  river,  and  vines  hung  in  golden  and  crim- 
son masses,  —  this  was  the  approach  to  Hohentauben. 
The  fresh  green,  the  cool  shade,  the  clear  whistle  of  the 
mavis,  the  thrush  pouring  its  dissolving  strain  of  music 
through  the  aisles  of  the  forest,  were  wonderfully  grate- 
ful after  the  heat  and  rattle  of  the  railway. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther,  they  came  to  the  sum- 
mit of  the  ravine ;  and  before  them  lay  a  lake-like 
expansion  of  the  river,  more  than  a  mile  in  length. 
Green  forests  and  greener  fields,  and,  at  the  farther 
end,  a  forest-crowned  crag,  bordered  this  beautiful 
water.  On  a  distant  hill  were  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 
abbey,  far  in  the  southwest  rose  the  towers  of  Mun- 
ster,  and  in  the  background  the  ridge  of  the  Vosges. 
Just  above  them,  on  the  right,  lay  a  smooth,  swarded 
slope ;  on  its  farther  side,  backed  by  the  walnut  and 
beechen  woods  through  which  they  had  been  riding, 
stood  the  old,  irregular  pile  of  Hohentauben.  From 
the  ivy-mantled  tower  on  the  corner,  the  blue  banner  of 
the  Waldeyers  drooped  its  silken  folds  in  the  languid 
summer  air.  The  drive  wound  up  the  slope,  through 
borders  of  old-time  box,  which  shed  a  quaint  aroma  on 
the  air.  Banks  of  foliage-plants  and  broad-leaved  canna 
and  caladium,  spotted  the  lawn  ;  and  the  spruce,  the 
larch,  the  acacia,  and  the  purple  beech,  singly  and  in 
copses,  relieved  its  broad  surface.  A  line  of  noble 
elms  along  the  river-bank  lifted  their  vine-draped 
stems  and  spreading  crowns  like  so  many  green  foun- 
tains. On  a  knoll  which  overhung  the  water  was  a 


HOHENTA  UBEN.  2/3 

platform  of  tessellated  marble,  enclosed  by  a  balus- 
trade, and  covered  by  an  awning  of  two  colors  ;  be- 
neath, at  a  quay  of  stone,  a  trim  little  yacht  rocked, 
and  fluttered  its  pennon  of  blue. 

The  original  structure  of  Hohentauben  had  been  a 
quadrangle  enclosing  a  court,  at  its  corners  towers,  the 
whole  surrounded  by  a  moat.  The  whole  western  front 
between  the  towers  —  a  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in 
length  —  had  been  taken  down  by  the  late  Baron  Wal- 
deyer,  and  the  interval  filled  by  a  modern  structure, 
with  an  elevation  of  two  and  a  half  stories,  facing  the 
lake,  built  of  gray  Caen-stone,  in  the  Italian  style,  and 
covered  by  a  flat  roof,  with  projecting  eaves.  The 
width  of  this  structure,  from  the  front  to  the  interior 
court,  was  forty  feet,  ten  of  which  were  given  to  an  en- 
closed gallery  on  the  rear  or  court  side.  This  ran  the 
whole  length,  and  gave  access  to  the  series  of  rooms 
which  stretched  along  the  front,  and  looked  out  upon 
the  river.  They  were,  in  order  from  the  southern  front, 
a  reception  room,  a  music  room,  parlor,  dining-room, 
library,  boudoir,  —  all  looking  over  the  moat,  which  had 
been  covered  in  with  a  glazed  roof,  and  served  as  a 
winter-garden  and  conservatory.  Elsewhere  the  moat 
had  been  filled  and  levelled,  so  as  to  form  a  portion  of 
the  lawn.  Above  the  rooms  mentioned  were  a  similar 
series  of  chambers,  and  the  northern  wing  of  the  quad- 
rangle held  the  offices  and  servants'  quarters.  Upon 
the  eastern  wall  of  the  court  trellised  vines  and  wall- 
fruit'  were  trained.  The  exposure  lay  open  to  the  sun, 
and  shielded  from  the  winds ;  and  just  now  the  walls 

18 


2/4  MANUELA   PARADES. 

were  loaded  with  a  great  crop  of  apricots,  nectarines, 
and  almonds.  Rosy  clusters  of  the  Chasselas  grape  alter- 
nated with  the  black  Frontignan  and  Muscat  of  Alexan- 
dria. Within  the  sheltered  court  the  orange,  the  fig,  and 
the  olive  had  been  nursed  into  wholesome  and  fruitful 
growth.  Nowhere  was  anything  gay  or  garish  or  con- 
spicuously new.  The  furniture  could  not  be  found  in 
any  catalogue  or  ordered  from  any  magazine ;  it  was  of 
no  fashion.  Use,  service,  and  intrinsic  beauty  was  the 
characteristic  of  each  article,  and  all  the  world  had  been 
drawn  upon  to  form  the  collection.  There  was  a  bam- 
boo sofa  from  Padang,  a  basket-chair  from  Pennsylva- 
nia, a  tall  carved  clock  from  the  Hague,  a  locker  from 
Canton,  old  English  sideboards,  carved  chests  from 
Venice,  rugs  of  Norwegian  eider-breasts  and  of  African 
leopard-skins,  vases  of  madrepore  from  the  Indian 
Ocean  and  terra-cotta  from  Fiesole,  pitchers  of  Cel- 
lini and  cups  of  Palissy. 

The  baroness  herself  conducted  her  guests  to  their 
chambers,  where  everything  was  sweet  and  fresh  and 
plain,  the  furniture,  like  that  of  the  rooms  below,  be- 
ing rare  rather  than  rich  or  elaborate.  The  wide  fire- 
places were  filled  with  blooming  and  odorous  plants, 
and  yellow  jessamines  and  Banksia  roses  were  trained 
between  the  windows,  over  which  white  awnings  hung 
low,  as  a  screen  from  the  afternoon  sun.  Each  room 
opened  upon  the  wide  gallery,  and  the  summer  air  had 
free  course. 

When  Madame  Waldeyer  left  them,  her  maid  appeared, 
and  cared  for  their  comfort  as  only  one  can,  do  who 


HOHENTA  UBEN.  275 

is  familiar  with  the  wants  and  habits  of  a  refined 
lady. 

Mrs.  Dysart  was  very  sensitive  to  the  sentiments  and 
harmonies  of  places,  and,  as  she  lay  resting  upon  her 
lounge  before  the  window,  she  remarked  to  Helen, 
"There  is  something  noble  in  this  quietness  and  se- 
renity, this  comfort,  —  delicate,  ample,*  and  complete. 
Everywhere  there  is  something  to  notice  and  to  think 
about,  but  nothing  for  show.  How  grateful  such  rest  is, 
and  how  much  more  restful  for  the  fitness  of  its  sur- 
roundings ! "  - 

"  Yes,"  answered  Helen ;  "  it  is  all  like  the  baroness 
herself,  — '  touched  to  fine  issues,  sweet,  exact,  se- 
rene.' " 

"  I  shall  get  well  here,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  I  shall 
sleep  without  being  either  anxious  or  expectant.  A 
good  long  rest." 

A  servant  entered  at  that  moment  with  a  letter.  It 
was  Julia's,  which  had  been  so  long  awaiting  their 
coming. 

It  bore  date  July  24,  the  day  after  the  burglary,  of 
which  it  gave  a  detailed  account,  not  to  be  recited  here. 
It  fairly  acknowledged  Mr.  Audran's  great  service,  and 
the  aid  which  he  was  likely  to  render  in  the  recovery  of 
the  lost  papers ;  but  underneath  the  acknowledgments 
Helen  recognized  with  regret  and  Mrs.  Dysart  with  sat- 
isfaction that  Julia  showed  no  personal  admiration  of 
him  nor  any  enthusiasm  in  his  behalf. 

"  Mr.  Audran/'  said  Julia,  "  has  certainly  proved  him- 
self a  brave  man  and  a  useful  friend,  so  much  so  that 


2/6  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

one  could  wish  he  were  a  little  less  self-conscious  and 
deliberate.  '  Less  of  the  pattern  and  more  of  the  stuff,'  " 
she  added,  "  would  suit  me  better." 

"  That  is  my  idea  exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  He 
has  an  ingenious  and  well-furnished  mind,  of  no  great 
compass ;  but  such  as  it  is,  it  is  enough  to  control  all 
his  impulses,  which  are  many,  but  not  mighty.  Enter- 
taining and  honest  he  may  be,  but  he  is  not  attractive 
or  magnetic.  Julia  feels  it  just  as  I  do." 

"We  will  not  talk  about  him,"  said  Helen,  with  a 
trace  of  bitterness  in  her  heart,  if  not  in  her  tone.  And 
as  she  went  away  to  dress  for  dinner  she  said  to  herself, 
"  Either  he  does  not  want  me  very  much,  or  he  very 
much  underrates  the  strength  of  the  current  which  is 
setting  against  him  here,  —  absence,  silence,  the  bidding 
of  my  father,  —  renewed  even  in  his  presence,  for  father's 
letter  was  written  just  before  they  started  together  for 
the  West,  —  the  whole  weight  of  obligation  to  both  of 
my  mothers  and  my  sister,  and  all  the  charm  of  this 
beautiful  home  and  all  this  fine  estate.  Why  does  he 
not  think  of  these  ?  Does  he  mean  to  prove  me  ? 

"  Did  he  not  say  in  so  many  words  that  I  must  come 
to  him,  if  I  came  at  all,  with  the  whole  force  of  my 
nature  and  the  whole  breadth  of  my  understanding  ? 
What  is  that  but  demanding  of  me  a  complete,  final,  un- 
conditional surrender,  which  takes  no  account  of  any 
opposing  influences,  or  of  any  possible  destiny  of  which 
he  is  not  the  almoner  ?  Is  not  that  winning  rather  than 
wooing  ?  Is  it  not  the  temper  of  a  hard  master,  inspired 
by  determination  rather  than  by  love  ?  Was  there  fate 


HOHENTAUBEN. 


or  providence  in  the  fact  that  I  so  squarely  refused  to 
hear  him  ?  I  thought  it  was  on  his  account,  but  it  may 
be  that  my  good  genius  hoodwinked  me. 

"  Come  in,  Alice,"  in  answer  to  a  knock  ;  and  Alice 
entered,  dressed  for  dinner,  and  as  pretty  as  laughing 
eyes,  fair,  unsunned  brow,  ruddy  browned  cheeks,  and 
a  dainty  French  gown  can  make  a  girl  of  nineteen. 

"  Can  I  help  you,  Nelly  ?  Won't  you  be  late  for  din- 
ner ?  It  would  never  do  to  keep  this  grand  manage  wait- 
ing. Do  you  know  that  I  am  very  much  impressed  with 
the  establishment?  Everything  is  so  complete  and  so 
orderly.  The  whole  house  seems  to  have  been  made 
for  itself  and  by  itself.  Things  harmonize,  but  they 
don't  match." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  I  feel  it.  Did  you  know  that 
my  mother  has  a  letter  from  Julia  ?  " 

"No.  Is  there  anything  special  in  it?  Do  tell  me 
what  she  says  now  about  Mr.  Audran." 

"  Yes,  there  is  something  very  special.  The  house  at 
Glenwood  has  been  entered  by  burglars.  Father  was 
bound  and  gagged,  and  what  next  might  have  happened 
no  one  can  tell  ;  but,  fortunately,  Mr.  Audran  came  on 
the  scene  in  the  nick  of  time,  drove  the  burglars  off, 
and  wounded  one  of  them.  Now  my  father  and  he 
have  gone  to  Colorado  together,  in  pursuit  of  some 
papers  which  were  stolen.  I  dare  say  mamma  will  give 
you  the  letter  after  dinner." 

"  So  Mr.  Audran  has  done  your  family  another  great 
service,  Helen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  very  great  one  ;  and  he  was  there  at  precisely 


278  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

the  critical  moment,  just  as  he  was  for  me  at  Handeck. 
Father  might  have  died,  suffocated  in  a  bag,  and  I 
must  have  died,  drowned  and  mangled  in  a  pool,  but 
for  him.  Is  it  not  strange  that  it  should  have  happened 
so  twice  ? " 

"  No,  not  so  strange.  It  is  no  accident,  Helen.  He 
waits  and  watches  for  all  in  whom  he  is  interested. 
He  would  not  have  been  near  that  frightful  pool  if  you 
had  not  been  in  all  his  thoughts." 

"  He  keeps  his  thoughts  very  much  to  himself,  then," 
said  Helen  fretfully.  "  We  have  not  heard  a  word  from 
him  since  he  left." 

"  No.  Perhaps  Walter  has  a  letter  by  this  mail.  We 
did  not  leave  him  much  to  say,  I  fancy.  We  did  not 
answer  some  of  his  communications  according  to  his 
wishes,  did  we  ? " 

"  Mr.  Audran  is  at  liberty  to  say  whatever  he  wishes 
and  whenever  he  thinks  best ;  and  I  am  at  liberty  to 
answer  as  I  think  best,  too"  (majestically). 

"  You  ought  not  to  be  angry,  Helen,  and  you  have  no 
reason  to  be  in  doubt  about  his  feeling  for  you." 

"  Supposing  he  does  like  me,  and  supposing,  when  he 
had  nothing  else  to  do,  he  did  grow  a  little  warm 
about  it.  He  did  not  mean  it  should  go  any  further  \ 
and  when  he  drifted  away  from  his  intentions,  I 
brought  him  back  to  them.  Did  I  not  tell  you  at 
Interlaken  that  was  all  there  was  of  it  ?  And  was 
I  not  right  ?  Mr.  Audran  has  gone  his  way ;  let 
him  go.  I  did  not  hasten  him  or  detain  him,  and  I 
will  not." 


HOHENTAUBEN.  2?g 

"And  what  will  you  do  when  he  comes  back,  and 
says  again,  with  all  possible  deliberation  and  emphasis, 
what  he  did  not  think  it  timely  to  say  before  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  catechise  me,  or 
why  I  should  answer  you  any  further.  My  present  con- 
cern is  to  be  civil  to  the  baroness,  who  has  been  so  kind 
to  me.  Come,  you  are  dressed ;  go  and  fetch  mamma, 
and  I  will  be  ready  in  a  minute." 

The  baron  and  baroness  were  waiting  to  receive 
them.  Both  were  in  evening  costume,  and  the  baroness 
wore  rich  jewels.  " 

"  I  hope  you  are  all  rested  after  your  journey,"  said 
Madame  Waldeyer.  "  I  should  have  remembered,  Mrs. 
Dysart,  to  ask  if  you  would  not  prefer  to  dine  quietly 
in  your  chamber." 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed !  "  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  I  am  feeling 
perfectly  well,  and  not  in  the  least  disposed  to  be  alone. 
This  is  my  first  introduction  to  a  French  country-house, 
and  everything  interests  me.  You  have  a  charming 
home,  baroness,  and  I  am  sure  it  is  your  taste  which 
has  made  it  such." 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  pleased  with  it,"  replied 
the  baroness.  "  Nature  has  done  much  for  us,  but 
the  place  has  been  greatly  changed  since  I  first  saw 
it." 

Then  she  told  the  history  of  the  baron's  family  for 
two  generations.  His  father,  an  emigre  of  the  French 
Revolution,  had  married  an  English  wife,  who  survived 
him,  and  who  preferred  that  her  children,  born  in 
England,  should  also  be  educated  there.  Adolphe,  the 


280  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

present  baron,  was  eighteen  years  younger  than  his 
brother,  and,  in  accordance  with  his  mother's  last  re- 
quest, had  been  left  at  school  in  England  until  he  entered 
the  military  academy  of  St.  Cyr. 

"  Thus,  for  the  first  eighteen  years  of  his  life,"  said 
the  baroness,  "  Adolphe  was  practically  an  English  boy. 
When  Alexandre  brought  me  here,  in  1848,  this  place 
was  almost  a  ruin.  We  lived  in  the  old  north  wing  for 
two  years,  while  the  western  front  was  building;  and  we 
lived  with  almost  bare  walls  and  floors  until,  in  the 
coursa  of  our  yearly  journeys,  we  picked  up  whatever 
furniture  you  see  here.  The  baron  kept  his  library  in 
advance  of  all  his  other  appointments ;  and  you,  Helen, 
and  you,  Walter,  will,  I  know,  like  to  range  over  it,  as 
you  shall.  It  is  not  a  great  library,  of  course,  but  it 
represents  almost  everything." 

The  folding-doors  of  the  dining-room  were  thrown 
open  at  that  moment,  and  the  butler  announced  dinner. 
The  baron  conducted  Mrs.  Dysart  to  the  post  of  honor, 
near  Madame  Waldeyer,  and  the  baroness  placed 
Helen  on  the  right  of  the  baron,  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table.  The  dinner  was  simple,  but  elegant,  and 
beautifully  served.  The  salads  and  fruits  were  par- 
ticularly fine. 

"  You  must  have  an  admirable  gardener,"  said  Helen 
to  the  baron. 

"  There  she  is,  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,"  said 
Baron  Waldeyer.  "  For  more  than  twenty  years  Manu- 
ela  has  been  the  gardener  of  Hohentauben.  All  that 
is  good  or  choice  about  the  place  has  been  formed 


HOHENTA  UBEN.  28 1 

under  her  care.  I  have  watched  its  growth  in  my  oc- 
casional visits  to  the  place ;  and  now  that  I  am  legal 
owner,  I  feel  that  her  right  is  far  greater  than  my 
own." 

After  two  hours  at  table,  they  went  to  the  parlor  and 
the  western  portico.  The  sun  was  setting  between  the 
peaks  of  the  Vosges,  and  threw  a  long  band  of  weltering 
gold  upon  the  tremulous  waters  of  the  lake-like  river. 
The  glory  shone  through  the  windows  of  the  ruined 
abbey  on  the  far-off  shore,  the  swallows  skimmed  the 
water,  and  the  shrill  note  of  the  night-hawk,  pursuing 
the  bats  which  like  filmy  shapes  issued  from  the  cran- 
nies of  the  eastern  wing  of  the  castle,  blended  with  the 
boom  of  the  bittern  in  the  distant  marshes.  Later, 
when  the  lamps  were  lighted,  the  baron  brought  from 
the  library  a  large  map  of  the  surrounding  country, 
and  entertained  them  with  local  history,  and  legends 
from  the  days  of  the  Crusades  to  those  of  the  German 
War. 

So  ended  the  first  day  at  Hohentauben ;  and  after 
our  friends  had  gone  to  their  chambers,  the  baroness 
and  baron  still  lingered  in  the  salon. 

"  Manuela,"  said  the  baron,  "  I  congratulate  you.  No 
one  but  yourself  could  have  done  what  you  have  accom- 
plished, —  could  have  brought  these  people  hither  and 
made  friends  of  them  all." 

"  I  hope  they  are  friends,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  the 
only  thing  I  have  thought  of  or  wished  for  since  we 
met." 

"  I  do  not  wonder,"  said  he.     "  Helen  is  a  jewel  for 


282  MANUELA   PARADES. 

any  mother  to  prize,  —  how  much  more  so  for  any  hus- 
band! I  should  like  to  know  what  my  chances  are 
with  her." 

"  Are  you  going  to  test  them,  Adolphe  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Manuela,  I  am.  Long  ago  I  made  my  mind 
to  that,  and  every  day  makes  me  more  sure  of  my  own 
purpose  and  more  impatient  of  delay.  What  have  you 
to  say  to  me  ? " 

"  Dear  Adolphe,  I  do  not  know  what  to  say.  I  hope 
I  am  not  so  selfish,  so  wrapped  up  in  my  own  desires, 
that  I  cannot  feel  sympathy  and  interest  for  you ;  and 
yet  —  I  shall  lose  her." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  you  can.  But  listen  :  measure 
my  desire  for  her  against  your  own.  You  are  young ; 
life,  with  all  its  great  achievements,  all  its  honors  and 
rewards,  lies  before  you.  When  you  want  a  wife,  you 
have  but  to  go  out  into  the  world  of  women  and  choose 
where  you  will.  I  am  old  ;  there  is  no  future  for  me, 
—  nothing  but  years  of  slow  decay,  a  stain  upon  my 
memory,  a  sting  within  my  conscience.  There  is  no 
one  in  all  this  world  except  Helen  who  can  lighten  and 
brighten  my  melancholy  lot.  If  ever  she  comes  to 
my  heart  and  takes  me  to  hers,  the  awful  wrong  which  I 
did  against  nature,  and  which  has  been  the  bitter  drop 
in  every  cup  of  every  day,  will  be  compensated  and 
atoned  for ;  for  Helen  will  not  give  me  my  desire 
unless  she  thinks  I  have  in  some  way  made  sufficient 
atonement. 

"  What  would  your  success  be,  if  you  succeeded  ? 


HOHENTAUBEN.  283 

Something  in  which  instinct,  ambition,  affection,  in- 
fluences from  every  side  of  life,  would  be  blended. 
What  would  my  success  be  ?  Something  simpler,  rarer, 
sweeter  far,  —  forgiveness,  sympathy,  defence." 

"  But,  Manuela,  would  not  mine  be  yours  also,  —  the 
best  and  surest  pledge  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Adolphe,  if  mine  came  first,  and  were  complete 
without  yours.  God  knows  that  I  have  no  wish  to  nar- 
row or  depress  the  scope  of  Helen's  life.  Only  let  me 
feel  and  know  that  she  accepts  and  enjoys  her  relation 
to  me,  as  I  do  mine  to  her,  and  I  shall  wish  her  the  best 
husband  in  the  world,  — which  may  be  yourself,  for  all  I 
know.  I  would  not,  if  I  could,  interfere  with  or  lessen 
his  claim  on  her  life.  She  shall  keep  for  him  all  the  con- 
fidences and  reserves  and  endearments  which  are  his 
right,  and  the  right  of  no  one  else.  But  she  must  give 
me  —  and  for  my  own  sake  —  the  place  which  Nature 
gave,  and  which  by  my  own  fault  I  forfeited.  If  she 
gives  it  to  me  for  your  sake,  she  does  not  give  it  at  all. 
If  she  will  take  me  first,  and  then  you,  you  may  be  near- 
est and  dearest,  and  I  shall  be  too,  too  happy.  But  if 
she  cannot  incline  to  you,  she  may  still  incline  to  me  j 
and  your  suit  must  not  —  must  not,  Adolphe  !  —  endan- 
ger mine. 

"  Now  you  see  why  I  am  nervous  at  the  thought  of 
your  pressing  it,  although,  as  you  say,  its  success  would 
so  much  enlarge  and  complete  my  own.  I  cannot  run 
the  risk  of  having  her  driven  away  from  me." 

"  I  will  not,  Manuela,  —  indeed  I  will  not.  God  grant 
that  instead  I  may  bring  her  closer  to  you,  now  and  for- 


284  MANUELA  PARADES. 

ever !  But  you  do  not  tell  me  what  you  think  of  my 
chances." 

"  Chances  !  There  is  no  chance  about  it.  I  resent 
the  word.  Helen  will  not  love  you  because  you  are  the 
Baron  Waldeyer,  —  young,  distinguished,  rich ;  she  will 
not  love  you  for  your  importunity.  She  will  love  you  if 
you  are  her  ideal  of  what  a  man  should  be,  not  else." 

"  Still,  you  do  not  tell  me  ;  perhaps  you  cannot.  But 
do  you  think  Mr.  Audran  is  in  the  way  ? " 

"  When  Mr.  Audran  was  here,  I  thought  he  might  be  ; 
but  Mrs.  Dysart  assures  me  that  there  is  no  pledge  be- 
tween them.  Both  she  and  Mr.  Dysart  have  said  that 
Helen  is  her  own  mistress,  and  free.  Mr.  Audran  has 
not  written  to  her,  I  am  almost  sure  ;  at  least,  she  has 
received  no  letter  from  him  since  he  left.  It  would  seem 
that  he  asks  nothing.  I  could  not  bear  such  silence,  for 
my  part ;  and,  if  you  are  to  speak,  perhaps  it  would  bet- 
ter be  while  that  silence  is  unbroken.  I  think  the  whole 
family  are  pleased  thus  far  with  Hohentauben.  But  that 
may  not  be  for  long.  Travellers  generally  are  not  con- 
tent to  halt  long  in  one  place.  Our  resources  here  are 
soon  exhausted.  When  they  have  seen  everything,  then 
will  come  the  desire  to  move  on,  —  weariness,  impa- 
tience. You  should  not  wait  for  that  time.  Better 
either  speak  soon,  or  wait  until,  wearied  and  impatient 
elsewhere,  their  memories  turn  back  pleasantly  to  us. 
You  must  study  opportunity ;  but  you  must  remember 
that  she  is  accustomed  to  win  golden  opinions,  —  to 
pursuit  and  to  siege.  A  cold  and  deliberate  lover  will 
not  succeed  with  her." 


HOHENTA  UBEN.  285 

"  Well,  Manuela,  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  rehearse 
in  your  presence  whatever  I  may  have  to  say  to  her.  If 
I  put  into  words  the  half  of  what  has  been  in  my  heart 
and  on  my  lips  a  hundred  times,  she  cannot  hear  me 
with  indifference." 

"  Go,  then,  Adolphe,  and  all  my  prayers  and  all  my 
heart  go  with  you  !  " 

It  had  been  agreed  over  night  that  Helen  should  attend 
the  baroness  in  her  usual  early  morning  inspection  of 
her  whole  establishment;  and  at  half-past  seven  she  was 
awaiting  her  hostess  in  the  parlor. 

The  baroness  came  in  a  gown  of  plain  black  stuff, 
with  linen  collar  and  cap,  looking  like  the  most  do- 
mestic of  chatelaines ;  and  they  went  together  through 
kitchen,  pantry,  and  wine-cellar,  still-room,  linen-room, 
laundry,  dairy,  kennel,  and  stable,  returning  by  the  gar- 
den and  conservatory.  Everywhere  the  servants  were 
prepared  for  her  coming,  glad  of  her  presence,  proud  of 
her  praise  ;  and  madame  examined  the  work  of  each, 
inquired  for  their  friends  at  home,  and  was  ready  with 
advice  and  suggestion  for  all  who  asked  it.  The  gar- 
dener followed  her  into  the  house  with  a  huge  tray  of 
cut  flowers ;  and  Helen  watched  with  delight  as  she 
arranged  the  vases  with  that  instinctive  taste  which 
belongs  to  a  sensitive  and  beauty-loving  nature,  making 
each  a  harmony  of  color  and  fragrance. 

What  to  do  with  the  coming  day  was  the  question  of 
the  breakfast-table.  The  baron  proposed  an  excursion 
to  the  summit  of  the  Reis. 

"  And  what  is  the  Reis  ?  "  asked  Helen. 


286  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  It  is  a  ridge  of  the  Vosges,"  he  answered,  —  "  one 
of  the  highest;  and  it  gives  a  view  of  all  Lorraine, 
Alsace,  the  Rhine  valley,  and  the  Alps  in  the  distance. 
Will  you  try  it,  Miss  Dysart  ?  We  can  ride  to  within 
half  an  hour  of  the  top ;  but  that  half  hour,  I  must 
warn  you,  will  be  a  steep  climb." 

They  were  soon  on  the  road,  which  followed  the 
northern  bank  of  the  river  nearly  to  Munster,  and  then 
turned  northward  up  a  little  tributary  of  the  Fecht.  Be- 
tween hillsides,  strewn  with  great  granite  blocks  broken 
from  the  jagged  ridge  above,  through  rock-walled  ra- 
vines, clothed  with  dark  spruce-trees,  they  issued  on  a 
little  plateau  beneath  the  gigantic  precipice  of  the  Reis- 
berg,  —  a  sheer  rise  of  a  thousand  feet  above  their 
heads.  Here  they  left  the  carriage  and  began  a  cir- 
cuitous ascent  on  foot.  Nearly  an  hour's  sharp  climbing 
brought  them  to  the  top  and  well  repaid  their  trouble. 
Before  them,  on  the  west,  lay  the  fair  valleys  of  Lor- 
raine, from  St.  Diey  to  Belfort.  The  infant  Meurthe 
wound  northward  from  the  foot  of  the  ridge  on  which 
they  stood ;  and,  like  strips  of  fallen  sky,  lay  the  two 
blue  lakes  which  are  the  source  of  the  Moselle.  North- 
ward and  eastward  towered  the  line  of  the  Vosges  and 
the  Haardt,  with  the  valleys  of  the  111  and  the  Rhine, 
and  beyond,  the  Black  Forest  of  Baden.  Southward 
the  Rhine  valley  led  the  eye  to  Switzerland,  and  far 
on  the  horizon  rose  the  white  pyramids  of  the  Eiger, 
Jungfrau,  and  the  Altels  Range  ;  beneath  them  lay  the 
rock-walled  pools  of  Lac  Blanc  and  Lac  Noir;  and, 
nestling  in  the  meadows  of  the  Weiss,  the  hamlet  and 
spires  of  Orbey. 


IIOHENTA  UBEN.  287 

With  the  map  spread  out  before  them,  they  were  able 
to  locate  many  a  town  and  river  of  name  familiar  in 
song  and  story.  Here  was  Alsace,  wrested  from  France 
by  the  war  of  1870 ;  and  the  baron  repeated  with  a  sigh 
the  lines,  — 

"  Alsatia,  thou  to  whom  in  evil  hour 

The  fatal  boon  of  beauty  Nature  gave, 

Oh,  were  that  beauty  less,  or  more  thy  power ! 
That  he,  who  now  compels  thee  to  his  arms, 
Might  gaze  with  cold  indifference  on  thy  charms, 

Or  tremble  at  thine  eye's  indignant  lower." 


288  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

THE   VEXED   QUESTION. 

WHEN  Mrs.  Dysart  had  finished  her  writing,  she 
went  down  to  the  library,  where  she  found  the 
baroness  engaged  with  her  household  accounts.  Mrs. 
Dysart  would  not  permit  her  to  interrupt  herself. 
"  Pray  leave  me  to  myself,  and  let  me  glance  over  your 
books,"  she  said. 

"  By  all  means,''  said  the  baroness.  "  Here  on  this 
side  you  will  find  the  English  shelves." 

They  were  of  a  class  with  which  Mrs.  Dysart  was  not 
familiar.  Many  of  them,  she  fancied,  represented  the 
late  baron's  peculiar  opinions  and  studies  in  political  and 
social  philosophy,  —  Hobbes,  Milton's  prose  works,  Bo- 
lingbroke,  Burnet,  Clarendon,  Neal,  Hargrave,  Hallam, 
Bentham,  Adam  Smith,  Mill,  and  Froude. 

"These  are  books  which  I  don't  know,"  she  observed. 
"  Is  this  a  favorite  kind  of  reading  with  you,  Madame 
Waldeyer  ? " 

"  The  baron  used  to  read  to  me,  and  I  to  him  ;  other- 
wise, I  should  probably  know  very  little  of  books  of  this 
class.  Living  alone,  as  we  did,  books,  and  these  not 
generally  of  a  light  kind,  were  our  companions.  You 
will  find  others  beyond." 


THE    VEXED   QUESTION.  289 

Mrs.  Dysart  continued  her  examination,  to  find  Eng- 
lish literature,  ancient  and  modern,  well  represented  in 
all  departments.  But  the  greater  part  of  the  library  was 
French  and  German,  of  a  character  similar  to  the  Eng- 
lish portion.  "  I  have  always  wondered,"  she  said,  "  how 
you  came  to  speak  English  so  perfectly  well." 

"  It  was  a  common  language  with  the  baron  and  my- 
self. He  did  not  speak  my  native  Spanish,  and  I  was 
by  no  means  fluent  in  French ;  so  English  was  in  habit- 
ual use  with  us,  and  was  only  gradually  superseded  by 
French  and  German.  Both  those  languages,  as  you 
know,  belong  to  Alsace;  and  most  of  the  people  use 
either  indifferently,  and  both  badly,  as  I  must  admit. 
Helen's  French,  I  notice,  is  exceedingly  good." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  She 
reads  French  and  German  with  perfect  ease,  and  with 
practice  would,  I  dare  say,  speak  well." 

"  That  is  fortunate,"  said  the  baroness,  "  if  she  is  to 
have  a  home  at  Hohentauben.  This  estate  belongs  to 
the  baron,  you  know ;  I  belong  to  the  estate  at  present ; 
and  I  hope  you  are  willing  to  allow  that  Helen  belongs, 
in  part  at  least,  to  me." 

"  You  have  told  us  so  frequently,  for  the  last  month, 
madame,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart  with  a  smile  ;  "  but  to  re- 
verse your  statement,  we  will  say,  Helen  belongs  to  you, 
you  belong  to  the  estate,  the  estate  belongs  to  the 
baron :  that  would  make  Helen  belong  to  the  baron, — 
a  very  different  proposition,  you  perceive." 

"And  would  you  find  it  an  objectionable  one,  ma- 
dame  ? "  said  the  baroness,  with  an  interrogative  smile. 

19 


290  MANUELA  PARADES. 

"  It  is  an  idea  which  I  could  not,  at  any  rate,  enter- 
tain in  advance  of  the  parties  themselves,"  replied  Mrs. 
Dysart. 

"Let  us  speak  in  confidence  to  each  other,"  said 
Madame  VValdemeyer.  "  I  must  not  compromise  the 
baron,  of  course  ;  but  I  cannot  help  observing  him, 
and  it  is  plain  to  me  that  he  is  greatly  fascinated  by 
Helen.  If  he  should  presently  tell  her  so,  it  would  be 
no  surprise  to  me,  and  if  she  answered  according  to  his 
hopes  it  would  be  a  very  great  delight.  As  his  wife,  she 
would  be  mistress  of  Hohentauben,  as  well  as  heiress  of 
my  separate  estate  ;  and  she  would  be  the  unquestionable 
baroness,  —  a  name  to  which  my  claim  is  not  too  good, 
if  there  were  any  to  dispute  it.  Better  than  that,  she 
would  find  the  baron  worthy  of  his  name.  Have  you 
any  idea  how  she  would  receive  such  a  proposal  ? " 

"  Not  the  least.  More  than  once  already  she  has 
declined  proposals  which  her  father  and  I  would  gladly 
have  had  her  accept.  In  fact,  we  have  doubted  if  she 
would  ever  marry  at  all." 

"  I  think  he  might  win  her  whole  heart  in  time,"  said 
the  baroness.  "  Helen's  vigorous  and  eager  nature  would 
be  fitly  mated  with  his.  He  is  a  man  of  affairs,  as  his 
brother  was  of  speculation  ;  but  both  are  alike  in  the 
simplicity  of  their  feelings  and  in  their  appreciation  of 
domestic  life.  I  know  very  well  that  he  has  never  be- 
fore cared  for  any  woman  who  in  any  way  could  compare 
with  Helen.  Ten  years  ago  he  was  betrothed  to  a 
daughter  of  General  d'Ecuyer,  —  a  sweet,  frail  creature, 
who  died  before  he  could  marry  her ;  and  his  heart  has 


THE  VEXED   QUESTION.  291 

been  vacant  since,  until  he  met  our  Helen.  I  do  not 
know  the  man  to  whom  I  would  sooner  give  daughter 
of  mine." 

"  Such  is  my  own  impression,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart. 
"  You  know  how  much  I  appreciated  his  care  when  he 
went  with  us  from  Martigny  to  Chamouny." 

"  Then  you  will  not  say  him  nay,  if  it  comes  to  that, 
dear  Mrs.  Dysart  ? " 

"  I  shall  say  neither  one  thing  nor  the  other,  if  it 
comes  to  that ;  but  I  shall  congratulate  them  both,  with 
all  my  heart." 

"  Oh,  thank  you  !  You  make  me  very  happy.  It  is 
after  three.  Shall  we  go  down  to  the  pavilion  and 
watch  for  their  return  ?  The  baron  said  they  would  be 
at  home  by  four.  If  they  come  by  the  river-road,  we 
can  see  them  a  long  way  off." 

But  they  watched  in  vain,  for  the  excursionists  had 
taken  the  road  north  of  the  ridge,  by  the  castle  of 
Hohnpach,  and  came  rattling  out  of  the  ravine  of  the 
Vogelbach,  directly  beneath  the  pavilion,  while  the  la- 
dies were  gazing  in  the  other  direction. 

Dinner  was  served  soon  after  their  arrival,  after  which 
the  younger  members  of  the  party  returned  to  the  pa- 
vilion. Walter  and  Eugene  proposed  a  row  upon  the 
river,  and  Alice  joined  them.  The  baron  and  Helen 
sat  watching  the  receding  boat,  whose  oars  flashed  in 
the  declining  sunlight. 

"  This  is  my  opportunity,"  thought  the  baron.  "  Do 
you  find  the  sketch  of  this  place,  which  the  baroness 
gave  you  at  Interlaken,  correct  ? "  he  asked. 


292  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  More  than  correct,"  said  Helen.  "  It  is  the  scene, 
and  it  is  her  sense  of  the  scene  also,  —  the  beauty  of 
nature  brightened  by  the  illumination  of  her  mind.  I 
am  seldom  very  much  interested  in  a  picture  unless  I  can 
see  the  artist  in  his  work ;  and  I  value  this  little  sketch 
exceedingly,  for  long  hence  and  far  away  it  will  recall 
the  image  of  both  place  and  person  to  me.  The  baron- 
ess told  me  at  Chamouny  that  I  could  understand  her 
only  after  I  had  seen  her  in  her  own  home  ;  and  it  was 
perfectly  true,  for  here  I  see  not  only  what  she  is,  but  how 
she  has  become  what  she  is.  I  am  very  glad  we  came, 
even  for  a  little  while." 

"  Must  it,  then,  be  a  little  while,  Miss  Dysart  ?  May 
I,  for  this  evening  and  while  we  sit  here,  call  you,  as  all 
others  do,  —  Helen  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  inquiring  eyes  to  his  as  she  answered, 
"  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  do  so,  if  you  like. 
We  are  connections,  in  a  sort  of  way." 

The  baron  looked  so  long  at  her  in  silence  that  she 
looked  up  archly.  "  Do  you  disclaim  me,  then,  baron  ? " 

"  Disclaim  you,  Helen,  —  disclaim  you,  who,  since 
that  evening  at  Lucerne,  have  been  first,  and  almost 
alone,  in  my  waking  thoughts,  and  even  in  my  dreams ! 
You  do  not  know  how  beautiful  and  bright  you  are  to 
me,  —  how  there  is  not  a  feature  or  a  motion  of  yours, 
never  a  turn  of  your  face,  a  word  of  your  lips,  a  glance 
of  your  eye,  a  ripple  of  your  hair,  a  touch  of  your  hand, 
that  does  not  thrill  me  through  and  through.  Why  are 
you  so  lovely,  Helen,  if  I  may  not  love  you  ?  Why  do 
I  so  long  for  your  love,  if  you  may  not  give  it  to  me  ? 


THE   VEXED   QUESTION.  293 

You  can  be  the  light,  crown,  reward  of  my  life.  You 
know  it,  and  you  will  be,  will  you  not  ?  — for  you  cannot 
refuse  love  such  as  mine.  God  never  made  such  sweet- 
ness for  itself  alone. 

"  Do  not  speak  yet !  Let  me  first  say  that  if  you  will 
accept  my  devotion,  you  shall  do  as  you  please  with  me 
and  mine.  I  risk  nothing  in  saying  this ;  for  have  I  not 
watched  you  for  weeks,  and  do  I  not  know  that  you 
have  never  a  thought  nor  a  wish  which  is  not  sweet  and 
generous,  —  that  love  and  grace  and  honor  rule  your 
mind  as  beauty  lives  and  breathes  in  your  form  ?  Day 
by  day,  for  weeks  past,  these  words  have  been  in  my 
throat,  and  I  have  strangled  them  till  they  have  almost 
strangled  me.  I  would  not  utter  them  until  you  had 
time  to  see  and  know  something  more  of  me  and  mine. 
I  can  keep  silence  no  longer.  My  words  do  not  say 
what  they  should.  It  would  need  years  to  do  that,  and 
years  only  can  tell  my  meaning  for  me." 

"  Baron  !  Baron  Waldeyer  !  Wait,  do  wait,  and  let 
me  speak !  I  cannot  have  you  open  your  heart  to  me 
thus  without  a  word  from  me.  If  I  hear,  I  assent.  If 
I  do  not  and  cannot  assent,  I  should  not  hear. 

"You  have  been  a  most  useful  and  most  valuable 
friend  to  me  and  to  all  of  us.  No  kindness  could  be 
more  graceful  or  complete  than  yours  has  been.  I  have 
done  very  little  to  merit  it;  and  when  a  man  whom  I  so 
much  esteem  and  admire  tells  me  his  love  and  asks  for 
mine,  I  ought  indeed  to  be  flattered  and  pleased. 

"  I  prize  your  friendship.  Let  us  never  be  less  than 
friends,  whatever  happens.  But  you  are  too  kind,  and 


294  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

you  have  invested  me  with  gifts  and  graces  which  do 
not  belong  to  me,  and  which  exist  only  in  your  own 
imagination.  We  dream  of  our  mates,  from  childhood 
onward,  and  we  dream  of  our  feelings  toward  them ; 
and  then  we  fancy  that  we  have  found  the  likeness  of 
our  dreams  in  some  one,  and  forthwith  we  invest  that 
person  with  all  we  most  desire  to  love.  So  it  is  now. 
You  have  made  of  me  the  surface  on  which  the  light  of 
your  own  heart  is  thrown.  It  is  the  love  of  love,  which 
you  declare  to  be  the  love  of  me  !  Think  of  it  in  that 
way,  and  I  shall  not  have  to  blush  at  the  sense  of  your 
exaggeration." 

"  Now  it  is  my  turn,  Helen ;  and  I  tell  you  it  is  not  so. 
I  swear  it  is  not  so  !  It  is  just  you,  —  you,  who  are  so 
soft  and  so  hard,  so  ingenuous  and  so  elusive  and  so 
fascinating  all  at  once,  that  I  want,  and  that  I  must 
have.  This  is  no  vague  or  general  susceptibility.  For 
ten  years  I  have  not  felt  even  the  most  transient  attrac- 
tion ;  there  has  been  no  one  to  whose  love  I  would  not 
have  preferred  my  liberty.  But  now,  about  your  form, 
your  soul,  every  wandering  thought  and  affection  has 
gathered,  to  flow  no  more,  and  not  elsewhere.  What 
would  it  be,  if  .your  beauty  and  your  brightness  could  be 
the  food  of  every  day  ?  I  don't  think  you  can  imagine 
how  I  can  and  will  love  you,  if  only  you  will  permit  it. 
Drop  that  cool,  critical  manner,  I  implore  you !  Give 
me  your  hand !  Let  me  hear  you  say  that  henceforth  our 
lives  are  to  be  one  !  God  knows,  and  I  know,  that  your 
wishes  will  shape  every  wish  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  what  am  I  to  do  with  such  a  man?"  she  cried, — 


THE   VEXED  QUESTION.  295 

"  a  man  who  thinks  himself  so  much  in  love  with  me,  and 
is  so  fierce  and  masterful ;  who  takes  no  account  of  my 
years  and  opportunities,  and  does  not  even  seem  to  sus- 
pect that  I  may  have  kept  some  fancy  by  me  from  which 
I  cannot  be  so  suddenly  weaned.  If  I  never  had  been 
wooed  before,  I  don't  think  I  could  say  you  nay,  Baron. 
You  are  such  an  eloquent  lover,  you  would  be  irresistible. 
But  I  have  had  my  experiences,  and  have  seen  the  most 
ardent  love  subside  into  silence  and  great  contentment. 
There  was  Mr.  So-and-So,  who  on  one  Occasion  assured 
me  that  his  heart  was  broken  ;  and  now  I  go  to  the  opera 
with  him  and  his  little  wife,  and  nobody  is  surprised. 
He  says  I  knew  him  better  than  he  did  himself.  Grati- 
tude toward  me  has  replaced  every  other  emotion  with 
him.  MacMahon  may  make  you  Minister  to  Persia,  one 
of  these  days ;  and  then  I  shall  be  only  that  American 
girl  who  bewitched  your  summer  leisure  in  Switzerland 
and  Alsace." 

"  You  mock,  you  wound  me,  Helen !  Do  you  not 
realize  that  you  are,  and  must  be,  either  my  light  or  my 
eclipse  forever  ? " 

"  No,  and  it  is  not  so.  A  man  who  has  your  record 
and  has  lived  your  life,  who  has  faculties  and  ambitions 
in  him  like  yours,  and  such  opportunity  and  promise 
before  him,  takes  a  disappointment,  even  if  he  finds  it 
severe,  and  does  not  suffer  it  to  unman  him.  No  woman 
could  bring  to  your  bright  life  what  you  fancy  I  might 
bring.  Years  hence,  when  your  record  is  made  up,  — 
patriot,  soldier,  senator,  diplomat, — it  will  be  of  no  con- 
sequence to  history  whether  one  woman  or  another  was 


296  MANUELA   PARADES. 

of  your  household.  The  crown  of  history,  the  applause 
of  senates,  the  gratitude  of  a  nation  will  be  yours,  — 
your  inspiration  and  your  reward." 

"Well,  even  supposing  all  this  to  be.  You  are  a 
part  —  the  best  part  —  of  me ;  and  will  not  my  success 
and  honor  be  yours  also,  and  worth  your  sharing  ? 
Could  I  enjoy  them  alone  ?  Would  there  be  anything 
half  so  sweet  as  to  lay  all  at  your  feet,  —  to  place  it,  as  it 
were  a  crown,  on  the  head  of  the  beautiful  woman  whom 
I  adore  ?  Why  do  you  put  me  off  thus,  Helen  ?  You 
have  faith  in  me,  you  say.  Prove  it.  Tell  me  now  that 
I  may  have  you  and  hold  you  and  keep  you.  Only  say 
that  to  me,  Helen  !  " 

"  I  cannot  say  it,  Baron  ;  and  I  would  gladly  have  pre- 
vented your  saying  this  to  me.  Be  content.  Do  not 
ask  what  I  am  not  free  to  give." 

"  Not  free,  Helen,  —  not  free  ?  Do  your  love  and 
your  faith,  then,  belong  to  another  ? " 

"  My  faith  is  my  own,  —  I  am  not  pledged  to  any  one, 
but  still  I  am  not  free ;  though,  if  I  could  have  pre- 
vented it,  I  would  not  have  allowed  you  to  force  me  to  tell 
you  so.  I  wish  neither  to  give  you  pain  in  refusing  your 
addresses  nor  pain  to  any  one  else  in  permitting  them. 
And  now,  my  dear  Baron,  whatever  there  is  between 
you  and  me,  as  I  would  not  parade  a  love  which  I 
cannot  accept,  even  so  I  will  not  be  questioned  by  you 
about  any  other  person.  Proud  and  grateful  as  I  am 
for  your  interest  in  me,  we  must  be  to  each  other  as  we 
always  have  been  until  this  evening,  before  you  were 
betrayed  into  these  hasty  and  passionate  words." 


THE  VEXED  QUESTION.  297 

"  It  cannot  be,  Helen.  I  cannot  see  you  sit  or  move, 
I  cannot  think  of  you  waking  or  asleep,  near  or  absent, 
and  be  content  with  the  distance  which  you  place  be- 
tween us." 

"  Please,  please,  say  no  more,  Baron  Waldeyer !  Only 
before  we  leave  the  subject,  I  must  tell  you  this,  —  that 
I  will  cure  you  of  this  hapless  love,  and  I  will  have  you 
and  keep  you  for  one  of  my  first  and  best  friends.  I 
have  plenty  of  use  for  your  friendship  in  other  ways 
than  that  of  making  myself  a  permanent  burden  and 
charge  upon  you.  No  more  now,  I  pray  you ;  and  you 
must  not  feel  aggrieved,  and  you  must  not  enlist  the 
baroness  for  you  or  against  me." 

"  There  is  but  one  word  of  comfort  in  what  you  say, 
Miss  Dysart :  it  is  the  word  '  now.'  It  permits  me  to 
speak  again  to  you ;  and  it  cannot  be  that  you  will  al- 
ways be  so  cold  and  so  hard  to  reach." 

"  Here  come  the  young  people,"  was  all  Helen's  an- 
swer. "Now  let  us  set  them  a  decorous  example, 
Baron." 

"  Why,"  cried  Alice,  "  have  you  been  here  all  this 
immense  time  ? "  and  she  glanced  quickly  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"  We  have  waited,  as  you  see,"  said  the  baron.  "  Mrs. 
Dysart  would  have  been  disturbed  had  we  returned  with- 
out you.  How  far  did  you  row  ? " 

"To  the  other  end  of  the  lake,"  said  Walter,— "a 
mile  or  more." 

The  sun  was  gone  down,  and  the  glow  in  the  west  had 
faded.  The  moon,  with  down-dropped  horns,  was  risen 


298  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

in  the  east,  and  the  twinkling  waters  and  dim  shores  lay 
fair  and  still  in  its  pale  ray.  A  month  before,  from  the 
other  verge  of  the  sky,  it  had  kept  morning  watch  with 
them  on  the  Rigi.  Six  hours  later  it  would  pierce  the 
storm-cloud  of  Colorado  to  light  a  scene  of  death  and 
deliverance. 

"  What  a  dew ! "  said  Alice,  looking  at  her  pretty  feet. 
"We  must  all  go  in." 

The  baroness  and  Mrs.  Dysart  met  them  on  the  porch 
over  the  moat. 

"  You  have  been  in  the  grass,  children,  and  your  shoes 
are  wet.  Go  and  take  care  of  yourselves.  I  have  sent 
letters  and  a  package  to  your  room,  Mr.  Audran.  By 
the  postmarks,  I  should  think  they  had  travelled  from  one 
end  of  Switzerland  to  the  other  before  finding  you." 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  mother,  and  you,  mamma,  I 
will  not  come  down  again  to-night,"  said  Helen.  "  I  am 
tired  after  that  scramble  on  the  Reisberg." 

"  And  me  too,  please,"  said  Alice.  "  It  is  too  late  to 
dress  again." 

"  Good-night,  then,  all  of  you,  if  such  is  your  plea- 
sure," said  the  baroness.  "  Mrs.  Dysart  and  I  get  on 
beautifully  without  you." 

So  they  went,  each  their  own  way. 

A  few  minutes  later,  Helen  heard  Walter's  voice  at 
her  door. 

"  Miss  Dysart,  may  I  speak  with  you  for  a  moment? " 

She  opened  her  door,  and  he  showed  her  two  letters 
which  bore  the  postmarks  of  Lucerne,  Interlaken,  Ge- 
neva, and  the  stamp  of  the  consulate  at  the  latter  city. 


THE  VEXED  QUESTION.  299 

"  You  know,"  said  he,  "  how  I  have  wondered  at  hav- 
ing no  letters  from  Robert.  It  appears  that  he  wrote 
both  from  Liverpool  and  New  York ;  and  his  letters, 
probably  from  some  carelessness  of  mine,  have  been 
travelling  round  Switzerland  until  they  reached  the  con- 
sul at  Geneva,  and  were  sent  on  here  by  him,  with  this 
little  box.  Each  of  Robert's  letters  encloses  one  for 
you,  and  this  box  has  your  name  on  the  inside  wrapper. 
I  want  to  take  all  the  blame  of  the  delay  on  my  own 
shoulders,  where  it  belongs,  and  hope  you  will  forgive 
me  for  it." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy,  I  will  charge  you  with  it,  and 
discharge  you  at  the  same  time.  I  am  very  glad  to  get 
the  letters  at  last,  and  they  come  in  good  time.  Thank 
you,  and  good-night !  " 

She  opened  the  first  enclosure.  It  was  dated  at  Liv- 
erpool, July  12,  and  read  as  follows:  — 

MY  DEAR  Miss  DYSART,  —  Here,  on  the  margin  of 
the  ocean  which  must  so  soon  divide  us,  I  claim  for  the 
first  time  the  privilege  which  you  permitted  me. 

I  have  thought  of  little  else  excepting  you  since  we 
parted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  at  Interlaken,  and  with 
each  thought  you  have  seemed  nearer,  dearer,  and  more 
necessary  to  me. 

I  have  gone  over  your  words  again  and  again,  to  see 
just  how  much  hope  I  might  extract  from  them,  and  I 
trust  you  will  allow  me  to  recall  some  of  them  to  you. 
for  they  are  the  anchors  of  my  soul,  and  I  must  not  let 
them  pass  from  your  memory  or  mine. 


300  MANUELA   PARADES. 

You  said  —  and  God  be  praised  that  you  said  so  !  — 
that  you  liked  me  better  than  you  did  any  other  man  ; 
and  when  I  offered  you  all  that  there  was  in  me  or  of 
me  or  with  me,  you  said  —  splendid  creature  that  you 
are,  you  did  say !  —  that  you  liked  me  better  than  you 
ever  did  before. 

0  Helen,  if  only  I  can  keep  that  mind  in  you  ! 

1  am  going  into   exile.     May  I  take  with  me  the  in- 
finite hope  which  you  have  put  into  me  ?     You  bade  me 
go  to  work  out  the  scheme   to  which,  for  a  time,  —  it 
may  not  be  so  very  long,  —  my  honor  and  my  fortunes 
are  committed ;  and  you  told  me  I  might  come  again 
and  be  sure  of  your  welcome. 

Don't  doubt  that  I  shall  come,  and  seek  again  the 
consent  which  you  deferred,  but  did  not  altogether  deny. 
And  do  not  think  I  am  trying  to  bind  my  queen  in  her 
own  words.  I  have  quoted  them  as  an  inspiration  to 
myself,  not  as  an  obligation  to  you.  I  know  that  only 
the  abiding  approval  of  your  judgment  will  insure  your 
consent.  But  from  my  own  point  of  view  I  do  not  de- 
spair of  that,  if  I  may  not,  as  I  will  not,  doubt  your 
words.  With  many  wishes  for  your  present  pleasure, 
and  many  hopes  for  the  future, 

I  remain  very  truly  yours, 

ROBERT  AUDRAN. 

With  nervous  fingers  Helen  tore  open  the  second 
letter.  It  bore  date,  Hoffman  House,  July  24. 

MY  DEAR  'Miss  DYSART,  —  Helen,  bien  aimde, — 
Over  three  thousand  miles  of  cold  and  faithless  sea, 


THE  VEXED   QUESTION.  301 

may  I  control  your  attention  for  a  few  moments  ?  How 
much  I  envy  my  written  words,  which  will  look  up  into 
your  eyes  as  you  look  down  on  them  !  How  much  I 
envy  this  paper,  which  you,  perhaps,  will  lay  by  with 
sweet  and  fragrant  things  in  your  drawer,  and  perhaps, 
after  a  little,  take  and  turn  and  read  again !  What 
sweet  and  blessed  fortune  led  me  to  you  on  that  summer 
afternoon,  and  followed  me  for  those  after  days  made 
ever  bright  and  memorable  by  your  society  ! 

There  are  ranks  upon  ranks  of  beautiful  and  good 
women  in  the  world,  doubtless  ;  but  nowhere,  I  think, 
is  one  who  could  please  me  as  you  did,  and  always  will 
do, — you,  who  have  as  much  sense  as  if  you  had  no 
wit,  and  as  much  wit  as  if  you  had  no  sense.  It  was 
said  of  some  lady  that  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  her 
was  equivalent  to  a  liberal  education ;  and  it  is  certain 
that  you  and  the  memory  of  you  tease  me  out  of  more 
thought  than  the  best  book  that  ever  was  written.  Into 
the  low-hung  sky  of  my  life  you  came,  as  after  winter, 
spring,  — 

"  Spring,  shedding  soft  dews  from  her  ethereal  wings  ; 
Flowers  on  the  mountain,  fruits  over  the  plain, 
And  music  on  the  waves  and  woods  she  flings, 
And  love  on  all  that  lives,  and  calm  on  lifeless  things." 

That  is  what  you  are  to  me  while  you  give  me  leave 
to  think  of  you.  Your  presence  in  my  mind  makes  all 
good  and  gentle  thoughts  abide  there,  and  all  lower 
instincts  fade  and  flee. 

I  have  to  tell  you  of  a  favorable  voyage ;  of  business, 
successful  up  to  the  present  stage,  and  very  promising, 


302  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

as  I  think.  You  will  hear,  from  your  father  and  sister, 
of  last  night's  adventure.  The  miscreant  got  away  with 
the  booty  for  which  he  came,  but  your  father  and  I 
start  in  pursuit  to-night;  and  as  his  mine  is  near  my 
home,  where  I  hope  I  have  some  influence,  we  Look 
with  confidence  to  recover  the  stolen  property. 

Helen,  I  am  going  five  days'  journey  into  the  wilder- 
ness, —  five  days  for  me  to  go,  and  five  more  for  a  letter 
to  return.  For  ten  days  after  the  coming  of  this,  I  can- 
not, or  my  words  cannot,  plead  my  cause  with  you,  — 
the  cause  of  one  whom  those  who  live  in  the  centres  of 
the  world  would  call  an  exile,  if  not  an  outcast.  It  may 
be — often  I  fear  it  is  —  unlikely  that  I  and  mine  can 
at  all  weigh  with  the  manifold  attractions  which  bind 
you  to  those  more  fortunate  friends  and  to  your  present 
sphere. 

Somebody  says  that  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is 
something  almost  too  good  to  be  believed,  but  the  aspi- 
ration after  it  is  as  deathless  as  the  soul  itself.  If  you 
should  close  the  door  to  all  possible  hope  of  possession, 
if  even  you  should  give  your  life  and  your  love  to  an- 
other, I  should  still  thank  God  that  I  have  known  you, 
and  I  should  come  eagerly  and  confidently,  when  I 
might,  into  your  presence.  But,  until  the  irrevocable 
word  is  spoken,  —  until  you  bid  me  put  you  out  of  all 
my  thoughts,  —  I  shall  dream  of  you  as  mine,  and  I 
shall  shape  life  and  fortune  as  I  may  to  win  and  wel- 
come you. 

I  must  tell  you  how  interesting  I  find  your  sister. 
She  has  much  of  your  grace  and  fire.  I  cannot  yet  say 


THE   VEXED  QUESTION.  303 

if  she  has  your  sweetness  or  your  scope.     Your  father 
and  she  have  been  as  kind  to  me  as  could  possibly  be. 

You  will  sometime  receive  from  Paris  the  stone  which 
you  bade  me  pick  up  for  you  from  the  rock  on  Rigi.  It 
will  come  to  you  in  the  form  of  a  button,  —  so  you  can- 
not say  I  do  not  care  a  button  for  you  ;  and  the  form  is 
an  act  of  conscience,  —  confession  of  a  larceny.  On 
the  ground  where  you  lay  faint  and  pale  at  Handeck,  I 
found  a  stud  of  yours,  and  I  coveted  the  chance  of  re- 
placing it  with  something  which  should  recall  myself. 

I  have  kept  it  ever  since,  and  shall  keep  so  long  as 
you  permit;  and  if  this  which  I  send  may  take  its  place, 
no  one  but  myself  will  know  it,  and  I  shall  be  both 
happy  and  unenvied.  Ever  truly  yours, 

ROBERT  AUDRAN. 

Then  she  opened  the  box,  and  there,  in  its  bed  of 
silk,  lay  an  oval  disk  of  blackest  agate  ;  on  its  face,  in 
letters  of  purest  white  and  in  high  relief,  was  the  word 
"  Rigi."  She  breathed  quickly,  and  a  tear  ran  down 
her  cheek  as  she  looked,  and  said,  " '  Helen,  bien  aime'e ' 
—Helen,  well-beloved.  O  Robert,  my  two  mothers, 
father,  brother,  sister,  baron  !  —  have  I  love  enough  for 
all  of  you  ? " 


304  MANUELA  PARADES. 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

THE   PASSING    CLOUD. 

T  TELEN  went  early  to  Mrs.  Dysart's  room  on  the 
•*•  •••  following  morning  ;  for  she  wished  her  to  know 
that  Mr.  Audran,  upon  whose  silence  she  had  commented 
so  severely  of  late,  was  neither  remiss  nor  forgetful.  She 
found  her  already  dressed,  and  sitting  by  the  open  win- 
dow. 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  be  up  so  early,  mother," 
she  said. 

"  Sleep  is  so  restful  here,"  answered  Mrs.  Dysart, 
"  and  the  birds  waken  me  early.  I  have  been  watching 
the  humming-birds  in  the  jessamine.  There  are  two 
now." 

"  You  are  feeling  well,  then,  this  morning,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  well.  And  you,  —  did  you  take  cold  last 
night  on  the  water  ?  " 

"  I  was  not  on  the  water ;  Alice  and  the  boys  went,  but 
not  I." 

"  And  where  were  you  ?  " 

"  In  the  pavilion  by  the  river." 

"  Was  the  baron  with  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  Indeed  !  Then  you  probably  had  a  very  interesting 
interview." 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  305 

Helen  made  no  reply,  and  Mrs.  Dysart  continued, 
"  I  know  what  was  in  his  mind,  for  the  baroness  has  told 
me.  Did  he  explain  himself,  Helen  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Well,  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"  I  received  two  letters  from  Mr.  Audran  last  night, 
mamma,  — one  written  just  before  sailing,  and  the  other 
just  after  reaching  New  York.  I  had  rather  tell  you  of 
those." 

"  Oh,  I  can  wait  to  hear  about  those.  The  baron  in- 
terests me  more  at  present." 

"  Mr.  Audran  is  the  older  friend." 

"  About  twenty-four  hours,  I  think,  Helen.  Certainly 
he  is  older  in  years." 

"  You  had  a  great  regard  for  his  mother,  had  you 
not?"  asked  Helen. 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  she  is  dead  and  gone  long  ago.  It  is  of 
your  mother,  and  not  his,  that  you  should  be  thinking 
now.  I  know  what  the  baron  said  to  you,  Helen. 
What  I  want  to  know  is,  how  he  said  it,  and  what  you 
answered." 

"  It  will  be  time  to  go  down  to  the  baroness  presently, 
mamma.  We  could  not  discuss  this  matter  if  we  be- 
gan it." 

"  Now,  Helen,  no  nonsense !  Of  course  it  must  all 
be  told  to  me,  sooner  or  later.  Don't  be  so  absurd  and 
reserved ! " 

"But,  mother,  it  is  not  nice  for  me  to  come  straight 
and  retail,  even  to  you,  what  a  gentleman  intended  for 
me,  and  me  alone." 

20 


306  MANUELA   PARADES. 

She  rose  to  leave  the  room,  and  Mrs.  Dysart,  who 
was  full  of  curiosity,  thought  sportively  to  detain  her  by 
slipping  between  her  and  the  door.  She  sprang  quickly 
from  her  seat,  and  ran  across  the  room.  "You  shall 
not  go,  you  provoking  creature  ! "  she  cried ;  and  even 
as  the  words  died  on  her  lips,  she  threw  up  her  arms, 
tottered,  fell  against  the  wall,  and  then,  with  a  low, 
gurgling  cry,  sank  upon  the  floor. 

Terribly  alarmed,  Helen  sprang  to  raise  her.  Her 
face  was  livid,  her  eyes  crossed,  her  limbs  powerless, 
but  there  seemed  to  be  some  consciousness.  Helen 
flung  open  the  door,  and  screamed  for  help.  Alice  was 
there  in  an  instant ;  together  they  lifted  Mrs.  Dysart  and 
bore  her  to  the  sofa,  sprinkled  water  in  her  face,  and 
opened  her  dress  at  the  throat  and  waist. 

"  Speak,  mother,  oh,  speak  ! "  cried  Helen  in  an  agony. 

A  movement  of  intelligence  passed  across  the  dis- 
torted face,  the  lips  seemed  to  struggle  in  speech,  and  a 
vague  tone  but  no  words  issued  from  them. 

The  baroness,  in  the  hall  below,  heard  the  call,  and 
came  quickly. 

"  Has  she  fainted,  Helen  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  I  don't  know  what  it  is,"  she 
sobbed.  "  We  must  have  the  doctor  at  once." 

"  It  is  not  a  faint,"  pronounced  the  baroness,  after  a 
pause.  "  See,  her  color  is  better,  and  her  breathing 
almost  natural.  She  is  paralyzed.  Let  me  call  the 
baron." 

In  another  moment  the  baron  entered.  He  studied 
the  half-unconscious  woman  for  a  while,  and  then  said 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  307 

gravely,  "It  is  something  very  serious,  I  fear,  —  apo- 
plexy or  paralysis,  I  cannot  tell  which." 

"  Go,  Adolphe,  send  a  messenger  for  Dr.  d'Anvers, 
describe  the  case  in  a  line,  — go ! " 

The  baron  rang,  a  servant  entered.  "  Tell  Jean  Oinie 
to  saddle  my  black  horse  and  come  to  the  library." 

He  ran  down  stairs  and  wrote  :  — 

A  M.  LE  DOCTEUR  D'ANVERS,  Colmar :  —  A  lady, 
guest  of  our  house,  is  stricken  with  unconsciousness; 
her  right  side  is  powerless.  Come  yourself  at  once,  with 
any  other  doctor  you  may  choose  to  consult  with,  and 
telegraph  to  Paris  for  the  best  man  in  such  cases. 

ADOLPHE  DE  WALDEYER. 

Then  he  returned  to  Mrs.  Dysart's  chamber,  and 
found  them  preparing  to  tnove  her  to  her  bed. 

"  Do  not  move  her,"  he  said,  "  until  the  doctor  comes. 
If  it  should  prove  apoplexy,  and  blood  is  pouring  into 
her  brain,  the  mischief  will  be  increased  by  every  mo- 
tion." 

So  they  stood,  helplessly  watching  the  dying  life  or 
the  living  death. 

After  a  time  the  baron  whispered,  "  I  do  not  know, 
of  course,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  if  it  were  apoplexy, 
by  this  time  there  would  be  increased  pallor  and  a 
weaker  pulse.  It  strikes  me  as  more  like  a  paralytic 
shock.  Of  those,  you  know,  the  first  stroke  is  seldom 
fatal,  and  there  may  be  many  years  of  interval." 

"  Shall  we  try  to  give  her  some  restorative,  —  eau  de 
vie,  perhaps  ? "  said  the  baroness. 


308  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  answered.  "  Her  face  is  paralyzed ; 
perhaps  her  throat  may  be  also,  and  in  that  case  it 
might  strangle  her.  The  doctor  will  be  here  in  an  hour 
and  a  half.  Nothing  should  be  done,  in  my  opinion, 
until  he  comes." 

The  hour  and  a  half  seemed  interminable,  but  at 
length  the  doctor  arrived.  He  made  deliberate  exami- 
nation of  many  details,  questioned  Helen  minutely, 
weighed  and  pondered,  so  that  insensibly  all  felt  that 
when  he  spoke  it  would  be  with  the  weight  of  convic- 
tion. His  final  question,  "  Was  she  ever  seriously  ill 
with  rheumatism,  in  the  course  of  which  her  physicians 
were  anxious  about  the  state  of  her  heart  ?  "  was  an- 
swered by  Helen  in  the  affirmative. 

He  placed  his  ear  upon  Mrs.  Dysart's  chest,  and, 
raising  his  head,  pronounced,  "  This  is  not  apoplexy ;  it 
is  embolism.  A  little  growth  upon  one  of  the  heart- 
valves  has  been  detached  by  a  sudden  effort,  and  has 
been  swept  along  into  one  of  the  vessels  of  the  brain,  as 
far  as  it  might  go  ;  there  it  rests,  cutting  off  the  blood- 
supply  of  that  part  of  the  brain,  and  so  causing  loss  of 
power  on  one  side  of  the  body." 

An  hour  later  his -colleague,  Dr.  Jardin,  arrived,  and, 
going  through  the  same  inquiries,  pronounced  the  same 
verdict. 

The  baroness  anxiously  asked  for  the  probable  issue 
of  the  case,  and  was  told  that  consciousness  and  motion 
would  return  slowly,  in  the  course  of  the  next  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  might  thereafter  improve.  Loss  of 
speech  would  continue  for  an  indefinite  period,  during 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  309 

which  a  favorable  or  an  unfavorable  course  might  be 
developed.  More  could  not  be  stated  with  any  cer- 
tainty. Anxiety  was  inevitable,  the  doctor  conceded, 
but  there  were  good  grounds  for  hope.  It  would  be  no 
surprising  thing  if  the  lady  recovered  so  far  as  to  enjoy 
comfortable  health  for  many  years.  No,  there  was  no 
special  reason  to  anticipate  any  recurrence  of  the  seiz- 
ure at  present.  In  accordance  with  Baron  Waldeyer's 
request,  Dr.  d'Anvers  had  telegraphed  to  Dr.  Charcot 
in  Paris,  but  as  yet  had  received  no  answer. 

"  Is  there  nothing  that  we  can  do  for  her  now  ?  "  said 
the  baroness. 

"  Absolutely  nothing  but  to  wait.  I  will  call  to- 
morrow and  observe  progress." 

The  baroness  followed  the  doctors  down  stairs.  "  Gen- 
tlemen," she  said,  "  I  cannot  explain  how  important  it 
is  to  us,  and  particularly  to  me,  to  know  exactly  what 
we  have  to  expect.  Family  matters  of  great  concern 
must  be  arranged  during  the  lifetime  of  your  patient. 
Will  she  live  a  week  ? "  She  looked  intently  at  Dr. 
d'Anvers,  who  bowed  to  his  colleague  and  devolved  the 
responsibility  of  reply  upon  him. 

"  We  have  told  you  already,  madame,  that  we  hope 
the  lady's  life  may  continue  for  years.  An  unfavorable 
issue  will  hardly  take  place  in  a  week.  It  is  possible, 
not  probable." 

"  Then>  may  I  ask  you  to  carry  a  line  from  me  to 
Father  Ladine  ? "  said  the  baroness.  "  And,  for  my 
sake  as  well  as  for  her  own,  let  me  urge  upon  you  the 
most  exact  and  unremitting  attention  to  my  friend.  In 


310  MANUELA   PARADES. 

my  house,  of  all  places  in  the  world,  she  must  lack  for 
nothing  which  care  can  suggest  or  money  provide." 
She  wrote  a  hasty  line,  and  delivered  it  to  them. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Father  Ladine  arrived,  and  was 
closeted  with  the  baroness  for  an  hour.  When  he  left, 
he  took  with  him  a  packet  of  papers,  and  an  order  on 
her  bankers  for  ten  thousand  francs. 

Helen  meantime  had  sent  the  following  telegram  to 
New  York,  to  be  forwarded  to  her  father :  — 

"  Mother  has  been  stricken  with  paralysis.  Recovery 
will  be  slow,  perhaps  uncertain.  Physicians  call  it  cere- 
bral embolism.  Can  you  and  Julia  come  ?  Answer. 

"H.  D." 

The  following  morning  the  physicians  from  Colmar, 
with  their  distinguished  Parisian  confrere,  carefully  ex- 
amined the  patient,  but  could  add  nothing  to  the  report 
of  the  previous  day.  All  was  quite  as  well  as  could  be 
expected. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  after  the  attack 
Helen  received  the  following  despatch  :  — 

FOUNTAIN,  COL.,  Aug.  n. 

Have  telegraphed  Julia  to  take  to-morrow's  steamer. 
Send  some  one  to  meet  her.  Shall  follow  as  soon  as 
possible.  A.  D. 

A  few  hours  later  Julia  telegraphed  that  she  would 
sail  by  the  Hamburg  steamer  of  the  i3th,  landing  at 
Cherbourg. 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  311 

"This  is  the  i3th,"  said  Helen  to  Alice.  "If  they 
have  a  ten  days'  passage,  she  can  be  at  Cherbourg  on 
the  23d.  It  is  a  five  days'  journey  from  Colorado  to 
New  York,  —  Mr.  Audran  told  me  so.  Father  cannot 
sail  before  the  i6th  or  iyth,  or  be  here  before  the  2Qth. 
Oh,  how  will  things  be  then,  and  how  can  we  meet 
him  if  mother  should  die  ?  " 

At  his  third  visit  Dr.  d'Anvers  comforted  them  by 
pronouncing  Mrs.  Dysart  fairly  conscious,  and  assuring 
them  that  a  return  of  speech  might  be  soon  anticipated. 
"  It  will  come  gradually,"  he  said.  "  At  present  her 
'  ideas  are  hazy,  and  she  has  lost  the  association  between 
words  and  thoughts.  We  call  it  aphasia." 

Helen  never  left  her  mother,  except  when  the  baroness 
or  Alice  could  persuade  her  to  go  out  into  the  court  or 
corridor  for  a  few  moments  of  fresh  air.  All  the  ladies 
were  absorbed  in  the  sick-room ;  and  the  baron,  Walter, 
and  Eugene  employed  the  melancholy  days  as  best  they 
might. 

On  the  fourth  day  Mrs.  Dysart  spoke  for  the  first 
time,  feebly  and  indistinctly,  —  "  Helen,  where  am  I  ?  " 

"  Here  in  your  own  bed,  mother  dear." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  my  limbs,  —  this  one,  this 
side  ?  I  can't  move  it." 

"They  are  weak,  mother.  By  and  by  you  will  be 
able  to  move." 

"  What  is  it,  Helen  ?  " 

"  Some  kind  of  a  shock,  mother.  You  fell  the  other 
day,  and  you  have  been  very  drowsy  since,  that 's  all." 

"  Whose  house  is  this  ? " 


312  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Madame  Waldeyer's." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.     What  a  trouble  to  her !  " 

"  It  won't  be,  mother,  if  you  will  only  get  well." 

"  Does  your  father  know,  Helen  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  Julia  will  be  here  in  a  week,  and  papa  in 
two." 

"  Oh,  that 's  good.  What  makes  my  head  so 
strange  ? " 

"  Don't  think  and  don't  talk  so  much,  dear  mother." 

"  Where  's  my  boy  ?    Where  's  Eugene  ?  " 

"  Close  by.     I  will  call  him,  mother." 

Eugene  came,  and  his  mother  kissed  him,  and  said, 
"  Don't  be  worried,  dear  Eugene.  I  shall  get  well. 
Now  let  me  see  the  baroness." 

The  baroness  came,  bent  over  the  bed  and  kissed 
Mrs.  Dysart. 

"  I  am  a  sore  trouble  to  you,  Baroness." 

"  You  are  my  treasure,  dear  madame.  God  send  that 
I  may  keep  you  until  I  can  give  you  back  well  to  your 
friends !  " 

"  My  husband  ?  " 

"  He  will  come  to  his  wife.  Your  daughter  will  come 
to  her  mother.  I  shall  be  so  proud  and  happy  to  see 
you  all  together,  and  to  be  permitted  to  serve  you." 

"  Is  he  your  husband,  too  ?  " 

"  He  is  not,  —  he  never  could  be.  Only  yours,  — 
yours  always." 

"  You  will  not  trouble  him  ?  " 

"  I  will  never  trouble  him,  and  I  will  always  love  you. 
Now  be  still,  dear  friend,  and  rest," 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  313 

"  You  will  always  be  good  to  Helen  ? " 

"As  good  as  she  will  allow  me  to  be,"  said  the 
baroness,  drawing  Helen  toward  her. 

"  Very  well,  I  will  sleep,  then,"  murmured  Mrs.  Dy- 
sart ;  and  she  dropped  off  into  partial  unconsciousness 
again. 

From  that  time  there  was  steady  improvement,  and 
the  apprehensions  of  the  watchers  gradually  subsided. 
The  common  interest  of  their  mutual  employment,  and 
their  constant  and  intimate  association,  made  Helen 
and  the  baroness  perfectly  at  ease  with  each  other  be- 
fore the  week  was  over.  Only  with  reference  to  her 
relations  to  Mr.  Audran  there  was  a  reserve  which 
Madame  Waldeyer  did  not  dare  assail. 

Thus  the  days  passed  until  the  aoth,  and  Julia  was 
due  at  Cherbourg  on  the  23d.  Mr.  Dysart  had  requested 
that  some  one  should  be  sent  to  meet  her  there.  Helen 
proposed  Eugene. 

"  But  pray  let  the  baron  accompany  him,"  said  Ma- 
dame Waldeyer.  "  We  were  speaking  of  it  last  night, 
and  he  begged  me  to  say  that  he  should  feel  very  much 
honored  by  being  allowed  to  share  in  the  charge  of 
your  sister." 

"  How  very  good  he  is !  "  said  Helen.  "  It  is  like  his 
giving  up  the  trip  across  the  mountains  to  escort  mamma 
to  Geneva.  There  is  no  interruption  and  no  end  to  the 
goodness  of  both  of  you.  You  have  brought  all  sorts 
of  trouble  on  yourselves  by  it." 

"  And  I  have  gained  all  I  wished  by  means  of  it,"  said 
the  baroness.  "  Except  for  Mrs.  Dysart's  illness,  your 


314  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

visit  would  be  the  best  and  greatest  pleasure  which  I 
could  have  had ;  and  since,  as  we  hope,  this  illness  is 
now  passing  away,  even  that,  by  bringing  Mr.  Dysart 
here,  will  hasten  the  solution  of  our  relations  to  each 
other,  —  relations  which,  so  long  as  they  remain  un- 
adjusted, are  a  trouble  to  us  all." 

The  baroness  spoke  with  an  easy  confidence  which 
Helen  and  Mrs.  Dysart  could  not  share  and  did  not 
understand.  To  them  it  seemed  that  this  meeting,  at 
best,  must  be  an  awkward  one,  and  might  easily  be  haz- 
ardous. But  there  was  something  so  serene  and  so 
affectionate  in  the  baroness's  manner,  that  they  could 
not  doubt  that  she  saw  her  way  out  of  all  difficulties, 
and  that,  like  her  other  ways,  it  would  prove  graceful 
and  kind. 

Mrs.  Dysart,  however,  was  troubled.  She  looked 
long  at  the  baroness,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Don't  cry,  Mrs.  Dysart ! "  said  Madame  Waldeyer. 
"  Oh,  pray  don't !  It  is  so  bad  for  you." 

"  How  can  I  help  it,  Madame  Waldeyer?  How  can 
I  forget  that  my  husband,  who  has  been  all  my  own, 
comes  to  find  me  helpless,  half-dead,  bewildered,  weak, 
—  a  burden  to  him  and  to  every  one,  and  comes  to  com- 
pare me  with  you,  his  first  love,  still  so  fresh  and  so 
fair?  If  you  have  won  all  our  hearts  and  taken  pos- 
session of  our  lives,  what  will  it  be  with  him  ?  If  the 
law  says  that  you  are  still  his  wife,  that  you  still  belong 
to  him  and  he  belongs  to  you,  —  if  life  belongs  to  life 
and  abhors  death,  —  what  am  I,  and  what  is  to  become 
of  me  ? " 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  315 

The  baroness  smiled  through  tears  as  she  answered, 
"  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  talk  with  you  at  all  about 
this  now.  It  was  very  wrong  in  me  to  allow  your  mind 
to  turn  to  these  matters.  You  are  still  too  weak  and 
confused  to  know  clearly  what  you  do  think,  and  these 
are  very  sick  fancies  of  yours.  But  still  I  must  just 
remind  you  that  women  of  our  age  belong  to  the  past 
and  not  to  the  future.  It  is  for  what  we  have  been,  and 
not  for  what  we  are  or  may  be,  that  we  are  prized,  after 
fifty. 

"  I  am  a  proud  woman,  I  believe  ;  still,  all  I  demand 
of  Mr.  Dysart  now  is  his  charity.  I  was  a  dreadful  trial 
to  him  for  one  year  of  his  life ;  and  when,  by  no  fault 
of  his,  the  tie  of  our  unnatural  relation  loosened,  I  am 
sure  that,  for  all  his  sorrow,  there  must  have  been  an  im- 
mense relief.  Nor  am  I  less  sure  that  in  the  wife  whom 
he  chose  from  all  others  because  she  suited  him,  he  has 
found  and  still  finds  all  that  he  failed  to  find  in  me. 

"  When  I  spoke  of  relations  to  be  adjusted,  I  thought 
only  of  the  peace  and  security  which  such  adjustment 
would  bring  to  you,  not  of  myself. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  more  to  be  said  about  this, 
but  we  will  leave  it  now.  Meanwhile,  let  us  settle  about 
your  daughter's  arrival.  I  am  so  anxious  to  see  her! 
Perhaps,  if  she  turns  out  another  Helen,  I  shall  want 
to  claim  her  too.  It  is  for  your  children,  Mrs.  Dysart, 
that  I  envy  you.  Has  Miss  Julia  ever  been  in  Eu- 
rope ? " 

"  No,"  said  Helen.  "  It  will  all  be  new  to  her,  new 
and  very  strange,  landing  alone,  perhaps  in  the  middle 


3l6  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

of  the  night.  I  believe  those  German  steamers  stop 
only  an  hour  or  so  at  Cherbourg  to  deliver  mails  and 
passengers." 

"  For  that  very  reason  the  baron  must  surely  go  for 
her,"  said  Madame  Waldeyer,  "  and  they  must  start 
to-morrow." 

"  Since  you  and  he  propose  it,"  said  Helen,  "  it  will 
really  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  him  accompany  Eu- 
gene. I  shall  be  glad  to  have  him  see  my  sister.  They 
will  like  each  other,  I  ana  sure." 

"  Is  she  so  much  like  you,  then  ?  "  asked  the  baroness, 
with  a  curious  smile. 

"  She  is  much  younger  than  I,  and  full  of  life,  very 
impulsive  and  entertaining.  She  is  not  blasee  or  con- 
ventional in  the  least.  The  baron  will  like  her,  I  know. 
I  will  run  down  to  thank  him,  if  you  can  spare  me  a 
few  minutes." 

"  Yes,  go  down,  all  of  you,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  Ma- 
rie will  stay  with  me  while  you  are  at  dinner.  Then 
send  Eugene  up,  and  you  two  girls  stay  and  make  a 
pleasant  evening  for  the  gentlemen." 

After  much  discussion  of  the  proposed  journey,  Helen 
asked,  "  Can  I  telegraph  Julia  at  Plymouth  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  said  the  baron,  "  if  you  do  so  at  once." 

Helen  wrote :  — 

"  Mother  doing  well ;  anxious  to  see  you.  Baron  W. 
and  Eugene  meet  you  at  Cherbourg." 

"  And  I  am  so  glad  you  will,"  said .  she,  turning  to 
the  baron  with  her  loveliest  smile.  "  Queen  Jule,  you 
know,  Eugene.  It  suits  her  to  be  attended  by  lords 


THE  PASSING  CLOUD.  317 

and  marshals.  She  will  believe  all  I  have  written  her 
about  our  friends  here." 

After  dinner  Eugene  and  the  baroness  went  to  Mrs. 
Dysart,  Walter  led  Alice  away  for  a  walk  by  the  river, 
and  Helen  and  the  baron  were  left  in  the  salon. 

The  baron  wanted  the  opportunity  to  speak  without 
interruption,  so  he  beguiled  her  first  to  the  porch,  and 
then  to  the  pavilion ;  and  Helen  went,  knowing  full 
well  what  was  to  come,  and  studying  with  herself  how 
she  might  dismiss  a  lover  without  recourse  or  appeal, 
and  yet  retain  a  friend  whose  interest  and  confidence 
she  was  anxious  to  preserve. 

The  baron  was  not  long  in  beginning.  "You  must 
know,  Miss  Dysart,  how  tedious  have  been  these  days, 
in  which  I  have  barely  been  able  to  get  sight,  and  rarely 
speech,  of  you.  You  must  feel  that  I  cannot  rest  con- 
tent with  the  issue  of  our  last  conversation,  or  wait 
much  longer  before  renewing  it.  This  was  inevitable.; 
and  yet  you  come  willingly  to  this  spot,  where  once  you 
saw  what  was  deepest  and  strongest  in  my  heart." 

"  More  than  willingly,  Baron.  I  value  your  interest 
and  esteem  too  highly  to  vex  you  with  any  delay  or 
uncertainty ;  and  now  I  want  to  know  what  I  can  do  to 
cure  you  of  any  warmer  feeling." 

"  There  is  no  cure  for  love  but  more  love,  Helen." 

"  Indeed  there  is,  and  you  shall  find  it.  There  are 
two  good  reasons  why  you  must  not  ask  for  more  than 
the  friendship  which  now  exists  between  us.  Either  of 
them  is  sufficient ;  at  any  rate,  they  must  control  me. 
The  first  is,  that  I  could  not  listen  to  you  without  being 


3l8  MANUEL  A   PAREDES. 

false  to  another ;  and  the  second,  that  I  do  not  believe, 
I  could  ever  feel  for  you  what  I  feel  for  him,  or  give  you 
the  response  which  your  love  deserves  and  will  com- 
mand from  some  one  better  suited  to  you  than  I. 

"  You  see  I  am  trying  to  make  my  words  as  plain  as 
I  can.  I  am  thus  frank  with  you,  because  I  want  you 
to  believe  me,  and  to  be  sure  that  I  know  my  own  mind 
in  this  matter ;  and  now  if  you  will  only  believe  my 
words  to  be  equally  sincere,  —  those  in  which  I  implore 
your  friendship,  and  those  in  which  I  refuse  any  other 
sentiment  you  can  proffer  me." 

The  baron  had  covered  his  face  with  both  his  hands 
as  Helen  spoke,  and  when  she  ceased  he  did  not  at 
once  remove  them.  At  length  he  said  bitterly,  "  There 
is  no  hope  for  me  then,  Helen,  —  nothing  but  a  dis- 
appointment deeper  than  you  can  measure.  What  am  I 
to  do  with  this  forbidden  love  of  mine  ?  O  Helen,  what 
might  —  what  might  not  —  you  do  for  me  ! " 

"  Perhaps  I  see  farther  than  you  do.  If  I  were  go- 
ing forever  out  and  away  from  your  sphere,  never  to 
meet  you  again,  I  should  grieve  to  lose  whatever  in- 
fluence I  have  with  you.  But  that  will  not  be.  Which- 
ever way  it  comes  about,  there  must  always  be  close 
relations  between  the  baroness  and  myself.  I  know  her 
now  for  my  mother,  and  she  is  wonderful  and  admirable 
to  me.  One  cannot  condemn  her  past  life  without  con- 
demning that  which  is  also  her  greatest  charm, — her 
endless  and  immeasurable  devotion  to  those  whom  she 
loves.  You  and  I  —  and  your  wife,  when  you  have  one 
—  are  to  share  and  return  this  love,  and  with  her  and 


THE  PASSING   CLOUD.  319 

with  each  other  our  lives  are  to  be  bound.  We  two 
should  be  as  brother  and  sister.  Think  of  me  as  such, 
and  all  that  a  sister  may  give  to  a  brother,  all  that  a 
sister  may  seek  from  a  brother,  shall  pass  and  pass 
again  between  us. 

"  It  was  with  this  thought  that  I  tried  to  stop  your 
words  the  other  day,  and  that  I  came  so  readily  to  talk 
with  you  now.  Do  you  understand  it  ?  " 

"  What  a  woman  you  are,  Helen,  —  tender  and  re- 
morseless, sweet  and  bitter,  in  a  breath  !  You  will  not 
love,  nor  let  any  one  else  love,  except  just  as  you  think 
best.  What  sort  of  a  man  must  this  favored  lover, 
Major  Audran,  be  ?  " 

"  Fie,  Baron  !  You  should  not  use  that  or  any  other 
name  in  such  connection  until  I  give  you  leave.  But 
do  not  think  I  have  any  apologies  to  make  for  him. 
We  are  not  pledged  to  each  other  in  words,  and  it  may 
be  that  there  will  be  nothing  between  us  in  future  ;  but 
because  of  what  has  been  and  what  is,  I  will  let  no 
other  man  call  himself  my  lover  at  present.  We  must 
not  talk  about  this  any  more.  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
Julia.  She  is  a  royal  girl,  —  magnanimous,  full  of  en- 
thusiasm and  prejudice,  brilliant  and  shy  and  sincere. 
You  must  not  imagine  that  any  one  mood  which  you 
happen  to  note  is  the  whole  of  her.  If  you  should 
suppose  yourself  to  have  taken  her  measure  and  to 
have  found  her  limit,  she  will  be  apt  to  astonish  you. 
But  of  one  thing  you  may  be  sure  :  her  words  proceed 
straight  from  her  heart,  and  are  not  kept  and  dressed 
for  occasion.  She  is  coming  over  now  under  a  great 


320  MANUELA   PARADES. 

cloud  of  anxiety,  but  I  hope  she  will  find  a  telegram 
from  me  when  she  reaches  Plymouth,  so  that  her  mind 
will  be  relieved,  and  you  may  see  something  of  her 
bright  usual  self. 

"  Now  let  us  go  back  to  the  house,  or  they  will  think 
you  are  making  love  to  me,  which  would  be  a  great 
mistake.  You  never  will  do  so  again,  will  you  ? " 


ENTER  JULIA.  321 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ENTER   JULIA. 

*  I  ^HE  baron  and  Eugene  started  early  on  the  follow- 
•*•  ing  morning.  Alice  and  Walter  accompanied 
them  as  far  as  Colmar,  and  brought  back  the  letters 
from  the  post-office.  There  was  one,  with  the  Roman 
post-mark,  for  the  baroness,  and  one,  with  the  stamp  of 
Monroe  &  Co.,  Paris,  for  Helen. 

Both  ladies  seemed  in  very  good  spirits  that  afternoon. 
The  baroness  was  also  pleased  with  the  arrival  of  a 
high-backed  chair,  fitted  with  rings  and  poles,  which 
came  from  Paris,  and  said  to  Mrs.  Dysart,  "  You  must 
begin  to  use  this  now,  so  that  when  Mr.  Dysart  comes 
you  can  be  carried  all  about  the  house  and  grounds 
with  him.  Further  travel  I  forbid,  for  a  long  time  to 
come." 

Helen's  letter  was  written  the  day  after  Mr.  Audran's 
arrival  at  Fountain.  He  made  no  mention  of  the  Dun- 
phy  adventure,  beyond  saying  that  Mr.  Dysart  had  re- 
covered his  papers,  but  wrote  with  spirit  and  hopeful- 
ness of  his  own  affairs,  as  well  as  of  the  memories  and 
hopes  of  which  she  was  the  central  figure. 

That  same  evening,  at  the  agency  of  the  steamships 
in  Paris,  the  baron  learned  that  the  "  Frisia "  would 

21 


322  MANUELA   PA&&DES. 

hardly  reach  Plymouth  in  less  than  ten  days  from  New 
York,  and  Cherbourg  some  twelve  hours  later.  There 
was  no  need,  therefore,  to  hasten  from  Paris ;  so  in  the 
morning  he  called  at  the  Elys£e,  and,  after  a  long  con- 
ference with  President  McMahon,  accepted  a  proposi- 
tion which  had  been  made  to  him  some  months  before, 
and  was  now  renewed  with  urgency,  to  go  to  the  United 
States,  in  nominal  connection  with  the  French  embassy 
at  Washington,  but  with  a  commission  to  investigate 
military  affairs.  He  was  to  go  when  convenient,  to  re- 
side where  he  might  choose,  and  to  remain  as  long  as 
occasion  should  require. 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  second  day  the  "  Frisia  " 
was  reported  off  Penzance ;  would  be  due  in  Plymouth 
at  eleven  o'clock,  would  sail  again  at  three,  and  proba- 
bly reach  Cherbourg  at  midnight.  Eugene  and  the 
baron  therefore  took  the  train  at  noon,  reached  Cher- 
bourg in  the  evening,  and  at  midnight  were  on  board 
the  little  tender  which  ran  outside  the  breakwater  to 
await  the  coming  of  the  steamer. 

Overhead  the  stars  were  shining  in  the  deep  blue  of 
a  cloudless  night,  but  a  veil  of  fog  lay  upon  the  dark 
water,  and  hid  the  sleeping  town.  Here  and  there  a 
nebulous  point  of  light  showed,  where  some  vessel  lay 
at  anchor,  completely  shrouded  in  darkness  and  mist. 
Against  the  incoming  tide  the  little  tug  ran  stiffly  out 
half  a  mile  or  more,  and  lay  to  with  just  movement 
enough  to  stem  the  current.  Half  an  hour  in  chilly 
expectation  they  stood,  with  faces  turned  seaward  ;  then 
a  yellow,  a  green,  a  red  light  shone  through  the  cur- 


ENTER  JULIA.   '  323 


tain  of  the  damp,  and  in  a  moment  more  the  vast  black 
hull  of  the  steamship  rose  right  above  them.  In  another 
moment  the  tug  lay  alongside.  A  port  was  opened  be- 
low, a  gang-plank  shot  out,  and  a  file  of  sailors,  each 
with  a  mail-sack  on  his  shoulders,  trotted  out  and  back. 
Next,  a  section  of  the  bulwark  above  was  removed,  a 
movable  stairway  lowered,  one  gold-embroidered  officer 
at  the  top  held  a  lantern  high,  while  another  led  by 
the  hand  the  solitary  passenger  who  desired  to  land  at 
Cherbourg.  Step  by  step,  in  the  beam  of  light,  the 
slender,  gray-cloaked  figure  descended. 

"Here  we 'are,  Julia!"  cried  Eugene;  and  as  she 
touched  the  deck  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her. 

"  How  is  mother  ? "  were  her  first  words,  and  "  Get- 
ting well  fast,"  the  encouraging  answer. 

"  And  Helen  ?  and  Alice  ? " 

"Very  well  also,  —  all  are  well.  Now,  Jule,  this  is 
Baron  Waldeyer,  come  with  me  to  meet  you." 

The  baron  delivered,  with  the  precision  of  a  soldier, 
his  most  profound  and  conventional  bow  ;  and  Julia 
mentally  ejaculated,  "  Heavens  !  how  stiff  ! " 

"  I  hope  mademoiselle  has  not  suffered  from  her 
voyage,"  he  remarked  courteously. 

"  Thanks  ;  not  in  the  least.  I  was  not  sick  at  all, 
but  so  impatient  to  get  here.  Where  are  we  ?  Where 
is  Cherbourg  ? " 

"Scarcely  half  a  mile,  in  that  direction."  said  the 
baron,  pointing  to  the  bow  of  the  boat,  now  moving 
rapidly  southward. 


324  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  And  what  are  we  to  do  when  we  get  there  ?  How 
soon  can  we  leave  for  Colraar  ? " 

"  At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,"  said  the  baron. 
"  This  must  have  been  a  disturbed  night  to  you,  Miss 
Dysart.  You  will  need  sleep,  I  should  think." 

"  Yes,  if  only  one  could  sleep  at  will,"  —  looking  at  her 
watch.  "  It  is  nearly  four  now,  and  it  would  seem  ab- 
surd to  go  to  bed  at  daybreak  in  a  strange  hotel.  I 
suspect  I  have  the  advantage  of  you,  gentlemen.  We 
left  Plymouth  at  three,  and  I  slept  from  eight  until  I 
was  called  at  one.  When  did  you  arrive  in  Cher- 
bourg?" 

"  About  nine,  and  we  also  had  three  or  four  hours  of 
sleep.  I  am  afraid  you  will  find  the  delay  a  long  and 
dull  one  if  you  cannot  sleep." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Julia ;  "  I  shall  have  my  trunks  to 
look  over,  and  my  letters.  Have  you  not  brought  me 
letters,  Eugene  ? " 

"Positively,  I  had  forgotten  them,"  said  the  boy. 
"  Here  they  are,  —  one  from  Helen  and  one  from 
Alice." 

"And  I  bring  one  also  from  my  sister,"  added  the 
baron.  "It  conveys,  I  presume,  the  welcome  which  I 
am  sure  she  feels,  and  has  charged  me  to  express  for 
her  in  all  ways  which  are  possible.  I  think,  however, 
that  Miss  Dysart  carries  her  welcome  with  her  wherever 
she  goes ;  and  I  am  sure  there  is  no  house  anywhere 
which  would  not  be  honored  by  receiving  Miss  Helen 
Dysart's  sister." 

"You  are  very  good,"  said  Julia,  "and  both  of  us 


ENTER  JULIA.  325 


ought  to  be  exceedingly  obliged  to  you.  Dear  Helen  ! 
it  is  not  the  first  time  that  she  has  won  place  and  con- 
sideration for  us  all." 

The  boat  had  now  reached  the  quay,  and  they  drove 
through  the  dark  streets  to  the  hotel,  where  a  sleepy 
concierge  received  them,  and  conducted  Julia  to  her 
chamber.  She  drew  a  chair  to  the  window,  threw  open 
the  closed  shutters,  and  sat  down  to  watch  the  tree-tops 
swaying  in  the  night-wind  and  the  gray  dawn  creeping 
over  the  eastern  sky.  "  How  very  kind  in  the  baron  to 
come  all  this  way  for  me !  "  she  thought.  "  He  adores 
Helen,  evidently,  and  they  mean  to  make  it  impossible 
for  us  to  refuse  her  to  them.  I  must  see  what  the 
baroness  has  to  say.  It  seems  to  me  I  should  have 
found  it  difficult  to  write  at  all  had  I  been  in  her 
position." 

She  opened  the  letter,  and  in  the  growing  daylight 
read  :  — 

HOHENTAUBEN,  August  2O. 

MY  DEAR  Miss  DYSART,  —  Your  brother  and  Baron 
Waldeyer  will  at  once  relieve  your  mind  of  anxiety 
about  your  mother.  Of  her  I  need  only  say  that  she 
has  been  the  most  charming  of  invalids,  and  her  rapid 
recovery,  which  is  now  almost  complete,  has  relieved  us 
from  a  great  fear  and  sorrow. 

The  baron  will  also,  for  himself  and  for  me,  bid  you 
welcome  to  Hohentauben.  It  is  to  be  our  great  pleas- 
ure to  receive  your  entire  family,  and  it  is  my  hope  to 
win  from  you  all  consent  as  to  my  future  relations  to 


326  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

Helen.  Beautiful  and  lovely  as  she  is,  the  unceasing 
object  of  my  dreams  and  hopes  through  all  the  years 
when  she  did  not  know  of  my  existence,  she  has  become 
now  so  dear  and  necessary  to  me  that  I  cannot  bear  to 
lose  sight  of  her.  If  it  is  right  for  me  to  devote  the 
remainder  of  my  life  to  her  service,  can  it  be  wrong  for 
you  to  allow  me  to  do  so  ? 

Will  you  deny  me  the  opportunity  to  make  such 
atonement  for  the  past  as  I  may  ?  Providence  has 
favored  me  with  this  unexpected  opportunity  of  plead- 
ing my  cause  at  once  and  before  you  all.  If  I  cannot 
succeed  now,  I  can  never  hope  to  do  so.  Dear  Miss 
Julia,  you  won't  prevent  it,  will  you?  You  will  not 
recall  whatever  I  may  have  won  from  Helen  and  your 
mother  ? 

It  is  right,  because  it  is  necessary,  that  I,  an  old 
woman,  should  sue  to  you,  a  young  one,  —  and  yet  I  am 
not  wont  to  sue.  I  hope,  and  I  shall  not  cease  to  hope, 
that  I  may  yet  owe  no  less  to  your  confidence  than  to 
your  kindness. 

But  I  will  not  write  further  of  that  of  which  I  can  so 
much  better  speak  ;  so  I  will  only  say  that  though,  in 
the  security  of  a  lifetime  of  love,  you  must  know  how 
glad  your  mother  and  Helen  will  be  to  see  you  again, 
you  cannot  possibly  realize  how  much  I  too  await  your 
coming,  as  a  great  pleasure  and  a  great  boon.  Helen's 
sister  is  secure  of  love  and  honor  and  welcome  at  Ho- 
hentauben  whenever  she  may  come. 
Yours  sincerely, 

MANUELA  DE  WALDEYER. 


ENTER  JULIA.  327 


Julia  read  and  re-read  this  letter  to  find  both  what  it 
declared  and  what  it  concealed,  and  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  concealed  nothing,  and  was  indeed  the  frank 
utterance  of  a  proud  and  affectionate  woman.  "  She 
means  to  make  us  admit  that  she  did  no  wrong,  or  that, 
because  she  has  perhaps  lived  a  decent  life  and  culti- 
vated her  own  moral  nature,  she  has  not  outraged  ours," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  But  that  is  a  great  deal  for  us 
to  admit.  On  the  other  hand,  one  cannot  think  worse 
of  her  for  attempting  it :  there  is  nothing  ignoble,  there 
seems  to  be  everything  worthy,  in  her  purpose  and  her 
methods.  They  are  natural  to  her,  and  generous  to  us. 
Putting  aside  all  interested  and  selfish  considerations, 
what  should  we  gain  by  wounding  and  defying  her  ? 
Should  we  go  away  with  a  better  opinion  of  ourselves  ? 
Would  it  be  a  pleasant  memory  to  cherish,  —  that  we  had 
kept  ourselves  aloof,  and  bidden  her  to  grow  old  and 
die  childless  and  forlorn  ?  Is  there  any  doubt  that, 
except  for  one  brief  passage  in  her  life,  she  has  been 
more  guileless  and  more  high-minded,  more  free  from 
envy  and  malice  and  all  uncharitableness,  than  many,  — 
than  most  women  ? 

"  Father  will  be  here  in  three  days.  It  is  for  him  to 
determine  what  our  attitude  shall  be.  I  should  only 
compromise  him  in  one  way  or  another  by  any  expres- 
sion which  the  baroness  might  draw  from  me  in  advance. 
I  will  wait,  and  go  on  with  him.  I  can  telegraph  him  at 
Queenstown  to  join  us  in  Paris  ;  and  I  will  dismiss  the 
baron,  if  he  desires  to  go.  Eugene  and  I  can  surely 
take  care  of  ourselves  for  three  days.  Now  I  must  let 
them  know." 


328  MANUELA   PARADES. 

She  unpacked  her  portfolio,  and  wrote  first  to 
Helen  :  — 

DEAR  NELL,  —  Eugene  has  so  fully  assured  me  about 
mamma  that  I  think  I  shall  wait  until  I  can  invade  your 
new  abode  under  the  protection  of  my  father.  I  am 
afraid  of  compromising  some  one  by  an  interview  with 
the  baroness,  who  has  written  me  an  adroit  and  effective 
letter. 

The  voyage  was  comfortable,  and  I  am  very  well,  and 
very  much  pleased  and  flattered  by  the  politeness  of  the 
baron.  Please  thank  the  baroness  in  my  name  for  her 
very  graceful  welcome.  I  shall  telegraph  to  papa  as 
soon  as  I  know  at  what  hotel  in  Paris  we  are  to  stay. 

Just  now,  between  midnight  and  daybreak,  I  find  my- 
self set  down  in  some  sort  of  a  place  in  Cherbourg.  I 
can't  see  much,  so  far,  but  it  seems  well  enough ;  though 
the  shapes  of  the  forts  and  towers  in  this  gray  dawn,  and 
the  trees  tossing  in  the  morning  wind  over  a  strange 
land  and  sea,  are  somewhat  eerie  and  dreary. 

Give  my  love  to  mother  and  Alice.  Three  days  more 
will  bring  me  to  them  and  you. 

Yours  affectionately, 
i  JULIA. 

The  sun  was  rising  over  the  headland  of  Cape  Levi, 
and  the  rocks  and  woods  of  Cotentin  lay  dewy  and 
deep  in  shadow,  when  Eugene  knocked  at  the  door. 
She  admitted  him,  and  the  boy  said,  "  The  baron  and  I 
have  been  trying  to  sleep,  but  it  was  no  go.  How  has  it 
been  with  you  ? " 


ENTER  JULIA.  329 


"  I  have  been  writing,  Eugene.  I  think  I  will  not  go 
beyond  Paris  until  papa  comes." 

"  Very  well.  Two  or  three  days  in  that  lively  little 
town  won't  be  bad,  considering  that  it  is  your  first  visit. 
I  rather  like  Paris  myself." 

"And,"  added  Julia,  "  I  want  to  telegraph  to  father  at 
what  hotel  to  look  for  us,  and  I  don't  want  to  detain 
Baron  Waldeyer.  I  shall  tell  him  so  this  morning.  He 
won't  think  it  rude,  will  he  ? " 

"  That  depends,"  answered  Eugene,  "  on  how  and  why 
you  do  it.  Baron  Waldeyer  is  not  a  man  likely  to  fail  in 
understanding  the  meaning  of  such  an  act.  He  is  aw- 
fully soft  on  Helen,  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  But  if  Helen  is  '  soft,'  as  you  say,  on  Mr.  Audran,  I 
should  not  think  she  would  encourage  the  baron.  I  won- 
der that  the  baron  did  n't  fancy  Alice  instead." 

"  It  would  n't  have  worked,  if  he  had.  She  's  pro- 
vided for.  She  just  angled  —  gently,  you  know  —  for 
Walter  Audran,  and  he  rose ;  and  now  she  's  gone,  hook 
and  line,  bob  and  sinker." 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that  ?  "  said  Julia. 

"  There 's  nothing  bad  about  it,"  said  Eugene.  "  Wal- 
ter 's  a  trump ;  he  '11  be  a  tip-top  lawyer,  one  of  these 
days." 

"  Is  Alice  fond  of  him  too  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Jule  ?  Does  she  go  mooning 
about,  tearful  and  distraite,  when  he  is  gone,  and 
twisting  and  clinging  when  he  is  near  ?  Not  much ! 
She  and  Helen  air  their  affections  in  lofty  style,  I  can 
assure  you,  when  they  air  them  at  all." 


330  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Is  n't  it  a  part  of  the  baroness's  plan  to  make  a 
match  between  Helen  and  the  baron  ?  I  should  think 
it  would  naturally  be." 

"  She 's  no  match-maker,  Julia  :  there 's  nothing  under- 
hand about  the  baroness.  She 's  grand,  I  tell  you." 

"  How  can  a  woman  who  has  done  as  she  has  done 
be  grand  ? " 

"  She  is  grand  because  she  is  so  impulsive  and  affec- 
tionate and  sincere.  Whenever  she  has  loved,  it  has 
been  with  her  whole  heart  and  soul ;  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  her  happiness  that  she  should  be  paid  in  kind. 
She  would  have  devotion,  and  the  governor  could  n't 
or  would  n't  give  it,  and  so  she  left  him  ;  and  I  cannot 
blame  her  so  much.  A  man  has  no  business  to  scant  or 
scrimp  such  a  woman." 

"Eugene,  you  are  shocking,  —  positively  shocking! 
Had  she  any  right  to  forget  her  vows  and  his  honor  and 
her  child  ? " 

"  No,  I  don't  excuse  her.  It  was  a  bad  business,  any 
way ;  but  it  was  a  choice  between  two  wrongs,  and  I 
don't  say  she  did  right ;  but  certainly,  as  it  turned  out, 
she  was  lucky.  Baron  Waldeyer  suited  her  to  a  T;  and 
they  walked  hand  in  hand,  with  their  heads  in  the  air, 
as  long  as  he  lived." 

"  Well,  how  does  she  feel  toward  my  father  now  ?  " 

"There  is  no  pique  or  temper  about  her.  She  has  a 
great  respect  and  regard  for  father,  because  of  the  rela- 
tion in  which  she  once  stood  to  him,  — that 's  all." 

"Well,  if  she  spurned  and  slighted  him,  and  your 
mother  and  mine  took  him  up,  then  she  cheapens  both 


ENTER  JULIA.  331 


him  and  our  mother ;  and  do'  you  suppose  she  or  we 
are  going  to  stand  that,  —  from  a  woman  who  is  no 
better  than  she  should  be  ?  Are  we  going  to  give  up 
and  come  down,  and  put  both  our  pride  and  our  princi- 
ple in  our  pockets  ?  " 

"  O  Julia,  don't  be  so  uncompromising !  Everybody 
in  this  wicked  world  goes  amiss  in  some  way  or  other, 
and  we  forgive  them  as  we  hope  to  be  forgiven.  Shall 
we  be  placable  and  compliant  to  every  form  of  wrong 
and  meanness  but  one,  and  savage  and  vindictive  over 
that  ?  Can't  you  imagine  that  there  is  and  has  been  so 
much  good  about  the  woman,  now'and  for  these  many 
years,  that  it  would  be  shameful  not  to  overlook  an 
error  of  her  unhappy  and  frantic  youth  ?  Before  God,  I 
believe  she  has  lifted  her  soul  toward  light  and  love 
with  such  purpose  and  energy  as  not  one  human  being 
in  thousands  is  capable  of,  and  that  in  that  respect  her 
example  would  elevate  the  best  of  us  ! 

"  Why,  Jule,  think  of  it !  Unless  our  existence  is  a 
misfortune  and  a  mistake,  we  children  ought  not  to 
regret  her  act.  Our  life,  whatever  good  there  is  in  it, 
could  not  have  been  unless  she  had  left  our  father. 
If  we  cannot  regret  it,  ought  we  to  be  so  sharp  in  con- 
demning it  ? " 

"Do  they  all  think  as  you  do,  Eugene, — mother  and 
all  ?  If  they  do,  I  may  as  well  give  up  and  come  down  ; 
but  I  should  like  to  ask  you,  young  man,  what  is  going 
to  become  of  society  if  such  views  become  general  ? " 

"  There  it  is  again  !  Such  views  never  can  become 
general.  What  is  to  hinder  us  from  taking  each  case 


332  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

on  its  private  merits?  What  reason  is  there  for  not 
doing  so  ?  The  sooner  society  gets  rid  of  formulas  and 
conventions,  the  better  for  it !  I  did  not  come  here, 
however,  for  this  kind  of  discussion.  I  came  to  say 
that  the  baron  is  worried  to  have  you  kept  so  long  in 
this  stupid  hotel,  and  he  suggests  that  we  should  break- 
fast at  seven,  and  drive  for  a  couple  of  hours  before  the 
train  goes  at  nine. 

"  You  know  Cherbourg  is  one  of  the  great  fortresses 
of  Europe,  —  the  mailed  hand  of  France  closed  in  the 
face  of  England.  Will  you  go  ?  He  said  I  was  not  to 
tease  you,  but  just  find  out  what  you  would  like." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  should  like  it  immensely,"  said  Julia; 
"  but  first  I  must  telegraph  to  papa." 

And  together  they  concocted  the  following  message :  — 

CHERBOURG,  August  26. 

ADRIAN  DYSART,  STEAMER  CELTIC,  ARRIVING  AT 
QUEENSTOWN,  IRELAND,  —  Mother  nearly  well.  Will 
wait  for  you  at  Hotel  Splendide,  Paris.  J.  &  E.  D. 

"Now,"  said  Julia,  "send  me  some  rolls  and  coffee 
here,  and  I  will  come  down  to  the  lodge  in  half  an 
hour." 

It  was  but  little  after  seven  when  they  started  on 
their  excursion.  Over  the  deep,  damp  green  of  the 
hillsides  they  drove  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  which  com- 
mands a  perfect  view  of  the  cordon  of  great  forts  which 
converge  their  fire  upon  the  breakwater  and  the  road- 
stead. The  baron  knew  the  history  of  the  place,  and 


ENTER  JULIA.  333 


told  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  it  both  interesting  and 
memorable.  Afterwards  they  were  driven  inside  one 
of  the  forts,  and  its  construction  was  explained.  The 
commandant,  recognizing  in  the  baron  his  superior  offi- 
cer, turned  out  the  whole  garrison  for  inspection  and 
guard-mounting,  and  the  barbette  guns  thundered  forth 
a  salute. 

This  programme,  so  novel  and  unexpected  to  the 
young  people,  and  the  distinction  which  marked  her 
arrival  on  these  strange  shores,  greatly  impressed  Julia, 
and  she  looked  very  stately  and  brilliant  as  she  bowed 
to  either  side,  in  response  to  the  salute  of  the  glittering 
ranks  between  which  they  issued  from  the  sally-port  of 
the  fortress. 

When,  half  an  hour  later,  they  were  seated  in  the 
railway  coupe  which  the  baron  had  secured,  she  said, 
with  perfect  sincerity,  "  I  never  expected  to  understand 
any  strange  place  and  scene  so  well  as  I  do  this,  thanks 
to  you,  Baron  Waldeyer.  The  frontispiece  of  my  book 
of  Europe  is  clear  and  sharp  enough,  however  vague 
other  pictures  may  be." 

"  You  are  very  good,  mademoiselle.  I  feared  that  I 
might  have  wearied  you  with  so  many  purely  military 
details." 

"  I  enjoyed  it  of  all  things,"  said  Julia.  "  It  is  always 
a  treat  to  listen  to  experts.  One  is  not  always  lucky 
enough  to  find  an  expert  who  is  both  soldier  and  en- 
gineer, like  yourself.  You  know  it  is  the  current  opin- 
ion that  Americans  are  very  inquisitive,  and  I  fear  you 
will  agree  with  current  opinion  presently ;  for  there 


334  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

are  some  questions  I  want  to  ask,  only  you  are  not  to 
answer  any  which  seem  perplexing  or  compromising. 
Your  home  is  in  Alsace,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Then  you  are  a  citizen  of  the  German  Empire  ?  " 

"At  present,  yes,  —  by  the  fortune  of  war." 

"  But  did  not  the  fortune  of  war,  in  this  case,  restore 
to  Germany  that  which  was  originally  her  own  ?  Is  not 
Alsace,  in  every  way,  more  truly  a  part  of  Germany  than 
of  France,  and  was  it  not  actually  so  before  the  war 
of  1870?" 

"  I  do  not  think  we  exactly  admit  that.  Alsace  had 
been  an  integral  part  of  France  for  a  hundred  and 
seventy-three  years.  More  than  six  generations  of  its 
people  had  been  citizens  of  France." 

"  But,"  said  Julia,  "  I  notice  that  all  the  names  on 
my  map  of  Alsace  are  German  names  ;  and  I  have 
somewhere  seen  it  stated  that,  to  nine  out  of  ten  of  the 
people,  the  German  is  the  mother-tongue.  They  are 
cut  off  from  France  by  a  mountain  range  over  which 
are  few  highways,  and  they  are  united  to  Germany  by 
the  Rhine,  —  a  river  which  rises  in  German-speaking 
lands,  and  draws  all  its  commerce  from  German  ports. 

"  I  am  a  democrat,  you  know,  and  believe  that  a 
country  belongs  to  its  own  people.  If  the  Alsatians 
are  Germans,  why  should  they  not  remain  so  ?  A  cen- 
tury or  two  of  French  occupation  has  not  made  it  French, 
and  it  has  easily  reverted  to  its  German  relations." 

"  Mademoiselle  will  pardon  me,  but  might  she  not  as 
well  say  that,  by  the  same  arguments,  the  United  States 


ENTER  JULIA.  335 


still  belong  to  England,  or  would  do  so  if  she  for  a  time 
could  hold  possession  of  them  ?  Is  it  possible  that 
mademoiselle's  sympathies  were  not  with  France  in  the 
German  war,  and  she  an  American,  and  America  the  old 
and  natural  ally  of  France  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  a  question  of  sympathies,  Baron  ;  and  if  it 
were,  you  know  that  we  had  not  much  love  for  France 
during  our  late  war.  She  took  the  occasion  of  our  dif- 
ficulties to  attempt  to  establish  her  own  dominion  on 
our  continent.  I  come  from  the  Northern  States,  and 
we  know  there  that  France  as  well  as  England  was 
jealous,  as  well  she  may  be,  of  our  industrial  North, 
and  at  heart  wished  that  the  agricultural  South  might 
triumph  over  the  North,  whose  manufactures  press  those 
of  other  nations  so  hard  in  all  the  markets  of  the  world. 
Just  now  my  sympathies  are  less  with  France  than  with 
Baron  Waldeyer  of  Hohentauben." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  mademoiselle.  And 
does  this  conversation  turn  on  his  interests,  then  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  It  seems  to  me  this  baron  is  in  a  difficult 
position.  His  heart  is  in  France,  and  his  home  in  Ger- 
many. What  is  to  become  of  him  in  case  of  another 
war  ?  " 

"  I  trust  mademoiselle  does  not  doubt  where  he  will 
be  then.  A  French  soldier  who  has  served  his  country 
in  the  Crimea,  in  Algiers,  and  in  Mexico,  —  in  three 
quarters  of  the  globe,  —  will  not  fail  her  when  her  own 
soil  and  her  own  life  are  in  danger." 

"  But  if  you,  a  citizen  of  Germany,  should  take  up 
arms  against  her,  you  would  be  a  rebel,  would  n't  you  ? " 


336  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

"  Certainly,  mademoiselle,  I  shall  be  a  rebel." 

"  And  your  estates  will  be  confiscated  to  the  Empire  ? " 

"  Possibly,  for  a  time." 

"  Permanently,  if  France  be  again  vanquished.  Is  it 
not  so  ? " 

"  It  might  be,  mademoiselle ;  but  now  again  I  am 
sure  of  your  sympathy.  When  next  we  fight  it  will  be 
as  a  republic,  offering  government  for  the  people  and 
by  the  people  (as  your  great  Lincoln  said)  to  all  Europe, 
weary  of  phantom  empires  and  decrepit  dynasties.  We 
wait  only  until  the  republic  has  fully  settled  its  princi- 
ples, has  deserved  and  has  won  the  confidence  of  the 
nation  and  the  respect  of  other  nations.  The  French 
Republic  in  1793  went  forth,  bold  and  wild,  to  preach  a 
gospel  of  chaotic  ideas  to  a  world  not  yet  ripe  for  them. 
She  will  go  again,  invincible  as  before,  but  now  serene 
and  justified.  The  people  everywhere  will  receive  her 
as  their  champion.  The  progress  of  her  arms  may 
meet  reverses,  but  I  have  no  fear  for  the  final  result, 
and  no  interests  which  I  would  wish  to  exempt  from  its 
scope.  I  am  not  thankful  for  any  protection  which 
Kaiser  Wilhelm  extends  to  the  Barony  of  Hohentauben, 
and  the  time  in  which  he  will  have  the  power  to  do  it 
harm  is  short." 

"  You  have  no  sympathy,  then,  with  the  other  factions 
which  aspire  to  rule  France  ?  "  said  Julia. 

"  Neither  sympathy  nor  respect,"  answered  the  baron ; 
"  for  the  stupid  bigot  at  Frohsdorf  least  of  all.  For  the 
Orleans  princes,  I  think  them  thrifty  commercial  men, 
speculators  and  time-servers,  but  incapable  of  under- 


ENTER  JULIA.  337 


standing  in  what  the  true  glory  and  grandeur  of  France 
consists.  For  the  Napoleonists,  they  are  egotists  and 
fatalists,  who,  in  their  ambitious  and  necromantic  visions, 
would  sacrifice  France  to  "  les  id6es  Napoliennes." 

"  But  do  you  not  fear  the  Socialists  ?  " 

"  Not  under  the  republic.  The  Mountain  and  the 
Commune  are  but  the  wild  reaction  against  arbitrary 
power  and  undeserved  privilege.  In  our  large  cities 
they  may  continue  to  exist,  for  there  social  distinctions 
will  be  most  marked  and  most  offensive  ;  but  they  will 
not  prevail  over  the  sense  and  the  virtue  of  united 
France.  No,  mademoiselle ;  the  disasters  of  1870,  in 
sweeping  away  the  idea  of  personal  government,  in 
forcing  us  anew  and  in  the  most  sober  mood  to  study  the 
social  problem,  in  laying  upon  us  the  yoke  of  sacrifice 
and  labor,  have  indeed  regenerated  France.  Here  the 
revolution'is  nearly  complete,  and  it  only  remains  for  us 
to  guide  and  moderate  its  forces  as  it  rolls  anew  over 
Europe." 

"You  believe  it  must  come,  then  ?     When  ? " 

"  Ah  !  that  I  do  not  know.  It  will  be  whenever  the 
nations  are  for  a  time  freed  from  the  pressure  of  foreign 
war.  While  that  continues,  the  attention  is  turned  to 
the  frontier.  The  armies  absorb  the  thought  and  the 
industry  of  the  nations,  and  the  loans  which  feed  them 
do  not  at  first  become  burdensome.  It  is  when  the 
disease  is  quieted  on  the  surface  that  it  returns  to  feed 
on  the  vitals  of  the  state.  It  is  ever  in  the  feasts  of 
triumph  that  the  handwriting  on  the  wall  is  seen." 

"  Oh,  how  dreadful  it  must  be,"  said  Julia,  "  to  live 
22 


338  MANUELA  PARADES. 

with  such  forebodings,  —  to  watch  the  thunder-cloud 
rising,  and  to  know  that  it  will  surely  wrap  you  in  its 
gloom,  perhaps  shatter  you  with  its  fire  !  " 

"  It  is  a  solemn  thing,  certainly,"  answered  the  baron  ; 
"  but  such  epochs  arise  in  the  life  of  every  nation.  Your 
own  has  but  just  emerged  from  one,  whose  horror  one 
of  your  early  Presidents  foresaw  when  he  said,  '  I  trem- 
ble for  my  country  when  I  remember  that  God  is  just.' 
It  is  only  by  such  convulsions  that  old  errors  are  up- 
rooted ;  and  it  is  in  such  periods  that  the  best  work  of 
the  world  is  done,  —  the  work  which  remains  and  is 
remembered.  Is  it  not  your  Longfellow  who  recalls  to 
you  '  the  time  that  tried  men's  souls  '  ?  — 

'  What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
In  what  a  forge,  with  what  a  heat, 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  your  hope  I ' " 

"  And  you,  Baron  ? " 

"  I  hope  to  be  used  while  there  is  use  in  me,  and  to 
stand  out  of  the  way  when  I  can  no  longer  be  service- 
able. I  would  invert  the  words  of  Louis  XIV.  and  say, 
'  Moi,  c'  est  T  etat.'  " 

"  Well,"  said  Julia,  "  I  have  certainly  used  my  Yankee 
gift  of  questioning  to  purpose  this  time.  Thanks  to  it, 
I  now  know  Baron  Waldeyer  better  than  I  could  have 
done  in  weeks  of  mere  observation." 

"Ah,  mademoiselle,  how  very  unlike  all  others  are 
your  American  young  ladies !  It  is  not  in  yourself  only 
that  I  have  observed  this  quick  way  of  studying  people 
and  character.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  am  not  cha- 


ENTER  JULIA.  339 


grined  to  have  exploited  my  position  so  readily  and  so 
fully." 

"Let  me  reassure  you,  then,  Baron.  I  fancy  that  we 
study  only  what  we  believe  to  be  worth  knowing ;  and 
words  which  come,  like  yours,  from  the  conscience 
and  the  reason,  are  sure  of  attention  and  respect.  It 
is  delightful  to  find  a  French  gentleman  and  sol- 
dier who  knows  so  well  our  American  history  and 
literature." 

"  It  is  the  astonishing  success  and  greatness  of  your 
nation,  revealed  daily  in  a  stronger  light,  which  draws 
all  eyes  to  your  methods.  It  is  the  sense  and  force 
with  which  Wheaton  and  Motley  and  Gushing  read  the 
puzzling  scroll  of  European  affairs  that  convinces  us 
that  we  may,  if  we  will,  learn  much  of  you.  More  than 
that,  it  is  the  erect  and  untrammelled  mode  of  thinking 
and  expression  which  we  see  in  so  many  Americans, 
men  and  women,  which  shows  us  that,  either  in  or  out 
of  your  schools,  the  substantial  gifts  of  education  are 
diffused  among  you  as  they  are  nowhere  else." 

"  If  this  is  a  mutual  admiration  society,"  put  in  Eu- 
gene, "  I  should  like  to  know  it.  The  way  you  two 
bandy  compliments  is  a  caution  to  bystanders,  as  we 
say  in  the  favored  land  you  speak  of.  Let  your  magna- 
nimity rest  now  for  a  little  while,  I  beg  you,  and  tell  me 
what  is  our  chance  for  some  dinner  by  and  by.  That 
early  drive  has  made  me  as  hungry  as  a  wolf." 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  the  baron,  "  where  are  we  ?  This 
river  is  the  Rille,  I  think ;  and  it  is  twelve  o'clock.  We 
shall  be  at  Evreux  in  half  an  hour,  and  there  is  a  buffet 


340  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

there,  Monsieur  Eugene.  He  is  your  youngest,  I  be- 
lieve, mademoiselle  ? " 

"Yes,  our  youngest, — r enfant  terrible,  and  horribly 
vexatious  sometimes.  It  is  not  well  for  him  to  be  hun- 
gry. When  we  get  to  Evreux  we  will  place  him  in  a 
high  chair,  move  him  up  to  table,  put  a  bib  on  him,  and 
observe." 

"  You  will  observe,  then,  that  he  is  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion," said  the  young  man. 

"When  shall  we  get  to  Paris,  Baron  ? "  said  Julia. 

"  About  six  in  the  evening,"  was  the  answer. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "this  is  Tuesday,  and  my  father 
cannot  arrive  before  Friday  or  Saturday.  We  will  wait 
for  him,  I  think ;  but  we  ought  not  and  will  not  detain 
you  for  so  long.  Eugene  and  I  can  amuse  ourselves 
very  well." 

"  Mademoiselle  has  perhaps  friends  in  Paris,  who  will 
occupy  her  time  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Julia ;  "  but  time  is  not  apt  to  pass 
slowly,  I  believe,  when  one  is  seeing  Paris  for  the  first 
time." 

"Then,  if  there  are  no  older  friends,  I  shall  ask  the 
pleasure  of  being  your  guide.  What  would  be  your 
idea  ?  What  do  you  most  wish  to  see  ?  " 

"  I  think  my  idea  would  be  to  get  a  general  idea  of 
the  city  and  its  localities,  and  leave  special  things,  such 
as  museums,  collections,  and  shops,  for  some  more  lei- 
surely visit.  But  are  you  sure,  Baron,  that  you  do  not 
want  your  time  for  other  places  and  engagements  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,  mademoiselle.     I  must  remain  in  Paris 


ENTER  JULIA.  341 


for  two  or  three  days,  at  all  events,  and  shall  have  very 
little  to  do,  —  merely  to  receive  instructions  for  a  period 
of  residence  in  America." 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  America,  then,  Baron  ? 
Where  shall  you  be,  and  how  long  shall  you  stay  ? " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  I  have  told  the  President  that 
I  would  go.  I  shall  be  mostly  in  Washington  and  New 
York,  and  wherever  else  are  arsenals  and  forts.  My 
errand  concerns  both  military  and  telegraphic  busi- 
ness." 

"  And  when  do  you  go  ?  " 

"  That  is  left  to  my  convenience,  but  a  month  or  two 
from  now,  probably." 

"  And  your  sister,  the  baroness  ? " 

"  She  will  probably  accompany  me.  Life  at  Hohen- 
tauben  would  be  very  sad  for  her  alone ;  and  for  my 
own  sake  too  I  should  wish  it.  You  will  understand 
that  when  you  come  to  know  her." 

"  She  seems,  indeed,  to  have  a  very  strong  hold  upon 
all  who  know  her.  I  almost  fear  to  place  myself  within 
the  influence  of  one  who  has  so  captivated  all  the  mem- 
bers of  my  own  family.  It  would  be  impossible  not  to 
recognize  her  great  kindness  to  my  mother;  and  yet 
you  will  perhaps  understand  and  excuse  me  if  I  say  that 
I  have  not  desired  to  see  Helen  identified  with  her." 

"  Certainly,  I  can  understand  it  perfectly ;  and  there- 
fore there  is  nothing  to  excuse.  I  can  only  hope  that 
you  may  sometime  feel  otherwise." 

There  were  still  some  hours  of  daylight  left  when 
they  reached  Paris.  On  their  way  to  the  hotel  the  baron 


342  MANUEL  A   PAREDES. 

made  a  detour  to  the  Arc  d'  Etoile,  that  Julia  might  see 
the  throng  of  carriages  rolling  through  the  Champs 
Elysees  toward  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Every  moment 
scenes,  familiar  enough  to  fancy,  appeared  to  her  in 
reality,  and  her  rapid  and  piquant  comments  and  the 
glow  of  her  beautiful  face  charmed  the  baron. 

This  charm  was  renewed  and  increased  as  day  by 
day  they  went  forth,  for  their  mutual  sight-seeing,  to  the 
Tower  of  St.  Jacques,  the  heights  of  Montmartre,  the 
ruined  terraces  of  St.  Cloud,  or  the  bastions  of  Mont- 
Val£rian.  The  baron  showed  her  not  only  the  physical 
features  of  the  scene,  but  the  points  memorable  in  the 
history  of  the  monarchy,  the  republic,  the  empire,  and 
the  commune. 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  343 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

AND    MR.    DYSART. 

the  second  morning  after  her  arrival  in  Paris 
Julia  received  this  telegram  :  — 

QUEENSTOWN,  August  27. 

Just  in.     Yours  received.     Hope  to  join  you  at  the 

Splendide  on  the  evening  of  the  2Qth. 

A.  D. 

The  baron,  preferring  not  to  intrude^  on  the  family  re- 
union, excused  himself  for  the  evening,  and  Mr.  Dysart 
arrived  in  time  to  dine  alone  with  his  children.  The 
father  saw  again  the  daughter  who  had  always  been  his 
peculiar  pride,  and  the  son  who,  during  the  separation  of 
more  than  a  year,  had  grown  into  manhood.  They  had 
much  to  tell,  —  Eugene,  of  the  experience  of  the  sum- 
mer, and  of  the  state  of  matters  at  Hohentauben  ;  Julia, 
of  her  voyage,  and  of  her  stay  in  Paris  ;  and  Mr.  Dysart, 
of  his  visit  to  Colorado,  with  its  dramatic  events. 

The  story  did  not  suffer  by  his  telling.  He  spoke  in 
the  warmest  terms  of  Robert,  whom  he  represented  not 
only  as  the  preserver  of  his  life,  but  as  a  most  able  man 
and  valuable  friend.  Of  his  future  he  had  no  doubt.  An 
election  for  Congress  was,  he  told  them,  to  be  held  a  few 


344  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

days  after  he  left ;  and  Robert  would  without  doubt  be 
chosen.  No  better  choice  could  be  made  :  he  was  not 
only  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman,  but  a  thorough  business 
man,  with  broad  views  and  large  experience  in  all  lines 
of  thought  and  action. 

His  own  visit  to  Colorado  had  been  a  great  success. 
The  villany  of  those  miners  had  recoiled  upon  their 
own  heads;  and,  as  a  result,  he  and  "Mr.  Audran  had 
become  the  joint  owners  of  a  mine  of  great  promise. 
He  had  been  systematically  deceived  with  regard  to  it ; 
and,  had  he  parted  with  it  when  urged  to  do  so,  would 
have  thrown  away  a  splendid  opportunity  of  fortune. 
When  he  received  the  telegram  calling  him  to  Hohen- 
tauben,  he  was  expecting  a  visit  from  California  capital- 
ists of  great  mining  experience,  who,  if  satisfied,  would 
probably  offer  a  good  price  for  the  property.  He  had 
hoped  to  receive  a  telegram  at  Liverpool.  Mr.  Audran 
had  power  to  close  the  bargain,  if  he  thought  best. 

And  then  his  mind  reverted  to  the  baroness,  and  he 
questioned  Eugene  closely  about  her. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Julia,  "  that  this  meeting  will 
be  very  awkward.  For  the  life  of  me,  I  cannot  tell  how 
you  can  meet  her,  or  how  she  can  receive  you.  She  is  a 
great  talker,  by  all  accounts  ;  and  if  she  insists  on  dis- 
cussing everything,  and  raking  up  old  grievances,  it  will 
be  horrid  for  us  all." 

"  I  don't  know  that."  said  Eugene.  "  If  there  is  one 
thing  more  to  be  observed  than  another  in  Madame 
Waldeyer,  it  is  her  tact.  She  has  a  genius  for  doing  the 
right  thing  at  the  right  time  ;  and  I  don't  think  it  is  tact 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  345 

alone  either,  but  the  quickness  of  her  sympathy  and  the 
fineness  of  her  sense." 

"  I  have  no  fears,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  Manuela  never 
made  one  uncomfortable.  With  all  her  impulsiveness, 
and  her  resolute  determination  to  have  her  own  way,  she 
was  never  regardless  of  the  feelings  of  others.  She 
suffered  a  great  deal,  but  she  never  complained.  Had 
she  done  so,  it  might  have  been  better  for  us  both.  It 
was  her  way  to  act  rather  than  to  speak ;  I  dare  say  it  is 
so  still." 

"  And  so  I  am  the  only  rebel  in  the  family,"  said  Ju- 
lia. "  What  can  be  the  reason  that  mother  and  father 
and  Helen  and  Eugene  and  Alice  and  Mr.  Audran,  all 
forsake  the  principles  by  which  we  have  lived,  swallow 
this  scapegrace  of  a  woman  without  the  least  diffi- 
culty,—  take  her  right  into  their  hearts  and  lives,  —  and 
never  seem  to  think  themselves  contaminated  or  com- 
promised in  the  least  by  doing  so  ?  Charity  covers  a 
multitude  of  sins  ;  but,  in  this  case,  it  would  seem  either 
that  it  is  extraordinary  charity  or  that  the  sins  in  ques- 
tion are  nothing  more  than  harmless  vagaries,  not  worth 
either  rebuking  or  denouncing.  Now,  if  she  were  a 
penitent  and  a  suppliant,  timid  and  despairing,  there 
would  be  some  grace  and  some  sense  in  all  this  forgiv- 
ing; but  we  are  not  asked  to  forgive  nor  to  forget. 
Rather  we  are  expected  and  privileged  to  ignore  our 
injuries,  and  turn  another  cheek  to  the  smiter.  It  is  too 
much,  —  too  bitter,  too  degrading !  " 

"  Well,  Julia,"  said  Eugene,  "  I  must  say  that  I  am 
astonished.  You  beat  and  heat  and  aggravate  your  feel- 


346  MANUELA   PARADES. 

ings,  and  work  yourself  up  into  a  state  of  mind,  as  if 
you  were  afraid  your  own  propriety  would  evaporate, 
unless  you  concentrated  it  in  some  malignant  visitation 
upon  this  poor,  loving  woman ;  or  as  if  you  supposed 
the  baroness  were  planning  to  subjugate  us  all,  and  tri- 
umph over  us  after  having  humbled  us." 

"  Yes,  Eugene,  that  is  just  what  I  do  suppose.  She 
may,  and  she  probably  will,  have  the  sense  and  forbear- 
ance not  to  parade  this  ;  but,  in  her  heart,  she  must  feel 
that  she  has  vanquished  us  and  the  Right  together ; 
and  we  must  feel  that,  when  our  sensibilities  and  our 
consciences  and  society  and  religion  all  proclaimed 
just  cause  for  offence,  not  to  be  overlooked  or  par- 
doned, we  have  shuffled,  like  poor  Toots,  and  said,  '  Jt  's 
of  no  consequence,  —  none  whatever  ! '  What  does  it 
mean  ?  Why  is  it  that  we  are  all  here,  hurrying  on 
together  to  help  in  our  own  destruction,  to  betray  our 
own  cause  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  come  for,  Julia  ?  "  said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  To  get  my  mother,  —  to  get  her  away  from  that 
place  and  out  of  the  protection  of  this  soft  and  treach- 
erous, this  fast  and  loose  woman  ! "  cried  Julia,  greatly 
excited ;  "  to  nurse  and  tend  her,  if  God  spares  her 
life ;  and,  if  she  must  die,  to  help  her  die,  as  she  has 
lived,  shunning  evil,  cleaving  to  good, — her  own  pure 
life  unstained  by  any  complicity  with  fraud  or  shame. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  persecute  anybody.  Leave 
Madame  Waldeyer  alone,  with  the  wages  of  her  sin 
and  the  mercy  of  God.  When  Christ  said  to  the 
woman,  '  Neither  do  I  accuse  thee,'  he  said  also,  '  Go  in 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  347 

peace,'  —  if  you  can.  He  did  not  wish  to  be  pestered 
with  her  company  !  " 

<iiMy  dear,  vivid,  fervid  girl,"  said  her  father,  "only 
wait  and  see  ;  and  don't  imagine  that  I  do  not  and  can- 
not sympathize  with  your  startled  and  stern  sense  of 
justice  and  propriety.  But  you  have  not  told  me  any- 
thing about  the  baron.  What  of  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Julia,  "  the  baron  is  quite  another  person. 
He  is  a  nice  rrtan,  very  nice  indeed,  —  a  truly  cour- 
teous, sad,  polite,  earnest  person.  The  iron  entered 
into  his  soul  when  France  was  bejuggled  by  Napoleon 
and  crushed  by  Bismarck,  and  he  lives  only  to  see  it 
disenchanted  of  its  errors,  redeemed  by  its  labors,  and 
made  glorious  by  its  patriotism.  He  may  not  be  strong 
or  great,  but  he  is  thoughtful  and  diligent  and  good. 
I  should  say  that  he  had  been  almost  overpowering  in 
his  politeness,  if  he  had  not  been  so  full  of  his  duty  as 
a  soldier  and  a  republican.  There  is  something  heroic 
about  the  baron.  You  will  see  him  in  the  morning,  and 
you  must  be  sure  to  thank  him  for  his  great  attention 
and  care  to  make  my  stay  in  Paris  entertaining  and  in- 
structive. But  he  will  not  go  with  us  to  Hohentauben  : 
he  is  to  remain  here  a  day  or  two  longer." 

"  Then  you  do  not  think  that  he  and  his  sister  are 
combined  in  a  scheme  to  work  their  wicked  will  with 
us  ?  "  said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"Oh,  no!"  was  the  answer.  "The  baron  is  too 
simple,  too  sincere,  for  that." 

"And  yet,"  said  Eugene,  "you  have  known  him  only 
three  days.  You  have  dealt  with  him  as  a  photographer 


348  MANUELA  PARADES. 

does  with  a  little  picture :  you  have  thrown  him  up  into 
a  scale  of  ideal  excellence  and  grandeur ;  and  you  have 
poked  the  baroness,  whom  you  have  never  seen,  down 
into  the  shadows  of  the  pit.  I  don't  like  to  call  you 
unjust,  Juley ;  still  I  will  just  remark  that  this  is  at  least 
rather  a  rapid  exercise  of  judgment." 

"  Rapid  or  not,"  said  she,  "  it  is  not  so  much  so  as 
yours  when  you  said  that  she  had  aspired  after  holiness 
and  heaven  as  not  one  woman  in  a  thousand  ever  does, 
—  though,  indeed,  there  is  little  doubt  that  she  has  need 
to  do  so  !  " 

"Well,  my  young  friends,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "you 
have  covered  the  whole  ground  by  your  discussion,  and 
I  am  glad  to  have  you  do  so ;  and  now  let  me  say  that 
you  would  better  let  this  problem  rest  for  a  while.  We 
don't  know  exactly  in  what  shape  it  will  next  present 
itself  to  us.  Uncle  Abe,  you  know,  used  to  say  that  it 
was  time  enough  to  cross  rivers  when  you  came  to  them. 
There  is  apt  to  be  a  considerable  difference  between  the 
judicial  and  the  prejudicial  view  of  things." 

A  knock  at  the  door  of  the  room  suspended  the  con- 
versation. It  was  opened  for  the  delivery  of  a  telegram 
addressed  to  Mr.  Dysart,  which  ran  as  follows :  — 

FOUNTAIN,  COLORADO,  August  26. 

Sold  to  S.  &  F.,  at  three  hundred.  Fifty  per  cent  in 
cash,  and  balance  fully  assured  by  certificates  of  deposit 
on  First  National  Bank  of  Denver,  and  Riggs  &  Co., 
Washington.  Election  of  23d  a  sweepstakes.  Am  com- 
ing out,  Str.  Mosel,  from  New  York,  September  4. 

ROBERT  AUDRAN. 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  349 

Mr.  Dysart  read  with  evident  complacency. 

"  May  I  see  it  ?  "  said  Julia  ;  and  her  father  handed 
it  to  her. 

"  S.  &  F.  ? "  said  she.     "  Who  are  they  ? " 

"  S.  &  F.  are  Shood  &  Flaron.  If  you  knew  any- 
thing about  bonanzas,  you  would  know  who  they  are." 

"  Three  hundred.     That  is  n't  much,"  said  Julia. 

"  Thousand  is  understood,  you  chick." 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  !  "  said  Eugene.  "  Whew  ! 
That 's  something  like  a  plum,  governor !  " 

"  It 's  not  a  plum  for  your  tasting,  young  man.  Now, 
God  be  thanked !  I  can  make  everything  right  with 
Manuela.  It  is  the  old  saw  over  again,  —  that  it  takes 
a  mine  to  pay  for  a  mine.  O  children,  the  shadows  of 
my  life  are  lifting !  I  have  not  ruined  the  soul  that 
was  given  me  to  keep,  and  I  can  make  good  again  the 
fortune  of  that  proud  and  patient  old  man,  her  father." 

"  And  what  about  my  mother,  sir  ?  "  said  Julia,  almost 
fiercely. 

"  Your  mother,  child,  —  your  mother  ?  She  is  Heaven's 
best  and  least-deserved  gift  to  me.  She  took  my  scarred 
and  sordid  spirit  home,  and  wrapped  it  in  the  grace  and 
sweetness  of  her  own.  Whatever  life  I  have  or  may 
have  above  and  beyond  the  schemes  of  commerce,  I 
owe  to  her  and  you.  Thank  God  again  for  her  spared 
life  !  We  may  yet  grow  old  together,  and  trim  our 
lamps  anew  for  the  coming  of  the  Bridegroom. 

"  At  what  hour  can  we  start  to-morrow,  and  when 
shall  we  get  there  ?  " 

"  You  can't  get  through  in  a  day,  father,"  said  Eu- 


350  MANUELA   PARADES. 

gene.  "  It  is  ten  hours  to  Strasburg,  two  from  there 
to  Colmar,  and  then  a  carriage  ride  of  an  hour." 

"And  so  Mr.  Audran  is  coming  for  Helen,"  said 
Julia,  recurring  to  the  telegram.  "  I  am  sure,  if  he  is 
all  you  say  he  is,  father,  it  is  the  best  thing  which  could 
possibly  happen.  It  will  deliver  her  from  the  baroness, 
at  all  events.  This  election  news  means  that  he  is 
going  to  Congress  from  Colorado,  I  suppose  ;  so  he 
will  live  at  Washington,  at  least  during  the  session. 
Dear  me  !  The  baron  is  going  there  too.  Did  you 
know  that,  papa  ?  " 

"  What !  Baron  Waldeyer  ?  You  did  not  tell  me 
that.  In  what  capacity,  pray  ? " 

"He  is  to  be  attached  to  the  French  Legation,  he 
says,  — nominally,  that  is  ;  but  really  he  is  sent  to  study 
our  system  of  manufacturing  arms  and  telegraph  equip- 
ments. He  starts  in  a  few  weeks.  You  must  see  him 
before  you  leave  the  city,  father." 

"  He  might  breakfast  with  us,"  said  Mr.  Dysart. 
"  Eugene,  ask  him  to  do  so,  with  my  compliments  ;  and 
tell  me,  if  we  get  to  Strasburg  to-morrow  night,  when 
do  we  reach  Colmar,  or  wherever  it  is  that  the  baroness 
lives  ?  " 

"  We  shall  get  to  Colmar  by  ten  next  morning,  and  to 
Hohentauben  by  eleven,"  answered  Eugene. 

Mr.  Dysart  immediately  telegraphed  his  intentions  to 
his  wife. 

The  father's  first  impressions  of  the  baron  were  like 
those  of  his  daughter  Julia,  —  that  he  was  a  man  who 
cultivated  a  formal  manner  as  a  protection  to  himself; 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  351 

and  Mr.  Dysart  set  himself  at  once  to  throw  this  fence 
down. 

"  We  are  under  very  great  obligations  to  you, 
Baron,"  said  he,  "  not  only  for  your  kindness  in  com- 
ing so  far  to  meet  and  welcome  my  daughter,  but 
for  the  unusual  opportunities  which  you  have  given 
her  to  understand  and  enjoy  all  the  new  things  which 
she  has  seen.  She  has  told  me  of  your  little  excur- 
sions at  Cherbourg  and  around  Paris,  in  terms  which 
make  me  regret  that  I  could  not  have  been  here  to 
profit  by  such  company." 

"  It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  attend  Miss  Dysart ; 
and  perhaps  my  experience  this  summer  with  her  sister 
has  taught  me  how  best  to  interest  her.  It  is  easy  to 
talk  with  your  daughters,  Mr.  Dysart :  they  have  the  art 
of  drawing  out  what  they  wish  to  know ;  and  the  themes 
which  interest  them  are  those  upon  which  a  man  likes  to 
talk." 

"  We  go  to  Hohentauben  —  or  at  least  we  start  — 
to-day,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  You  are  soon  to  be  there, 
I  hope?" 

"  In  two  days,"  answered  the  baron. 

"  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Dysart  will  soon  be  able  to 
leave  ?  " 

"  Manuela  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  said  that," 
answered  the  baron.  "  If  you  go  this  morning,  it  is 
already  time  you  were  on  your  way.  You  will  allow  me 
to  attend  you  to  the  station." 

It  was  a  silent  party  which  occupied  the  car  from 
Strasburg  to  Colmar  next  day.  Mr.  Dysart  was  too 


352  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

much  absorbed  in  thought  for  conversation,  Julia  too 
nervous  ;  only  Eugene  seemed  at  ease. 

They  were  nearing  the  station  when  Julia  asked 
Eugene,  "  Who  will  be  there  to  meet  us  ?  Will  it  be 
the  baroness  ?  I  hope  not ;  though,  after  all,  the  sooner 
the  meeting  is  over,  the  better." 

"Wait  and  see,"  answered  Eugene.  "I  know  no 
more  than  you.  Helen  will  be  there,  at  any  rate." 

At  Hohentauben  was  also  a  council  on  the  same  sub- 
ject. It  was  called  by  the  baroness,  who  also  dictated  its 
conclusions,  most  acceptable  to  Mrs.  Dysart  and  Helen. 
The  programme  of  the  baroness  was  this :  that  Helen 
should  meet  her  father  and  sister  at  Colmar,  and  ac- 
company them  to  the  castle  ;  that  Mrs.  Dysart  should  re- 
ceive them  at  the  porte  cochere ;  that  three  hours  should 
be  given  them  for  rest  and  conference,  if  such  they  de- 
sired ;  and  that  she  herself  should  be  in  the  parlor  to 
receive  them  at  two  o'clock,  —  half  an  hour  before 
dinner. 

The  baroness  followed  Helen  to  the  carriage,  and,  as 
she  was  about  to  take  her  place  in  it,  drew  from  her 
bosom  a  thin  package,  and  handed  it  to  her.  "  Dar- 
ling," said  she,  "that  is  for  your  father.  It  is  very 
precious,  very  valuable,  very  costly ;  and  I  want  you  to 
give  it  to  him  with  your  own  hands.  Will  you  take  the 
time  to  do  so  when  your  greetings  are  over,  and  when,  as 
is  natural,  you  begin  to  speak  of  me,  and  the  circum- 
stances under  which  we  meet  ?  I  wish  especially  that  your 
father  and  mother  should  have  time  to  consider  what  it 
contains  before  I  see  them." 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  353 

She  trembled  with  emotion  as  she  drew  Helen  into 
her  arms,  and  hid  her  tearful  face  upon  her  daughter's 
shoulder.  "  Remember,  dear,"  said  she,  "  you  are  all  I 
have  in  life.  You  are  my  only  one.  Without  you,  I  am 
a  lost  soul !  " 

Helen  was  almost  as  much  moved  as  her  mother,  as 
she  answered,  "  Dearest  mother,  there  must  be  and  there 
is  some  way  to  make  this  right ;  and  surely,  as  I  am  your 
child,  it  will  be  found.  Nothing  shall  ever  estrange  me 
from  you,  —  never  !  Good-by,  dear,  good  mother !  " 
She  hastened  to  the  carriage,  and,  as  it  rolled  down  the 
lawn,  looked  back  to  see  the  baroness,  erect  and  smil- 
ing now,  and  throwing  kisses  to  her  daughter. 

"  We  shall  soon  be  there,"  said  Eugene,  as  the  train 
entered  the  scattering  suburbs  of  Colmar. 

"  Yes,"  said  Julia,  "  and  then  there  will  be  a  scene. 
Father  has  not  spoken  a  word  all  the  morning.  He  is 
dreading  the  meeting,  I  know.  You  won't  be  any  more 
magnanimous  than  she  is,  will  you,  papa  ?  Promise  me 
that  you  won't !  " 

"I  hope  I  may  behave  as  well, "said  Mr.  Dysart  sadly. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  cried  Eugene ;  "  and  there  is  Helen, 
alone  on  the  platform." 

One  moment  more,  and  Helen  was  in  her  father's 
arms.  He  kissed  her  fondly  ;  then  held  her  off  at  arm's 
length,  and  looked  at  her.  "  The  same  old  girl,"  said 
he.  "  Just  as  sweet  as  ever,  Nell." 

"  The  same  old  father,"  said  she,  "  and  handsomer,  I 
declare !  And  Jule,  Queen  Jule,  how  splendid  you 
are  !  And  what  have  you  done  with  your  baron  ? " 

23 


354  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  Is  she  here,  Nell,  —  the  Waldeyer  woman  ?  " 

"  Oh,  don't,  Julia !  Don't  speak  of  her  so  !  She  is 
the  sweetest,  dearest  creature  !  And  she  is  my  mother, 
—  remember  that,  Julia." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  then,  about  her,"  cried  Julia  vi- 
ciously. "  If  I  am  to  take  to  her  at  all,  it  must  be  in 
my  own  fashion,  and  for  my  own  reasons.  If  you  will 
all  persist  in  bowing  down  to  her  —  " 

"  Remember  all  she  has  done  for  mother,"  said  Eu- 
gene, "and  don't  be  rude  at  first.  If  you  don't  go 
.  wrong  at  the  outset,  you  will  soon  learn  the  proprieties 
of  the  place." 

They  were  soon  seated,  and  driving  across  the  mead- 
ows of  the  111.  The  noble  Norman  horses,  the  hand- 
some carriage  with  the  Waldeyer  crest,  the  complete 
appointments  of  the  coachman  and  the  footman  at- 
tracted Julia's  notice.  "  She  does  things  in  style,  don't 
she  ? "  was  her  remark. 

"  Where  shall  we  see  your  mother  ? "  said  Mr.  Dysart. 

"  She  will  be  waiting  in  the  porch  to  receive  you,"  an- 
swered Helen. 

"  How  does  she  look,  Nell  ?  I  could  not  bear  to  see 
her  ill  and  broken." 

"  You  will  not  think  so  at  all,  except  when  she  moves," 
said  Helen.  "  She  walks  feebly  still,  otherwise  she  is 
very  well,  and  for  the  last  few  days  has  been  so  happy  and 
eager  over  your  coming.  You  will  not  see  the  baroness 
for  two  hours  or  more,  —  not  until  just  before  dinner." 

"  So,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  she  makes  you  do  the  hon- 
ors, then  ?  That  is  right,  —  you  are  the  daughter  of  the 
house." 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  355 

"  Oh,  dear  papa,  I  thank  you  for  the  word !  Indeed, 
it  must  be  so !  It  would  break  her  heart —  and  almost 
mine  —  if  it  were  not  so." 

"  She  may  not  have  you  very  long,  Helen.  There  is 
somebody  else  between  here  and  Colorado  who  is  specu- 
lating as  to  where  you  belong." 

"  Robert ! "  said  Helen,  with  a  brilliant  smile.  "  Yes, 
you  know  him  now,  as  well  as  I  do,  papa ;  and  I  only 
hope  you  like  him  as  well,  that 's  all." 

"  He  's  splendid,  my  dear.  He  is  just  the  man  for 
you,  and  you  are  good  enough  for  any  man.  And  I  am 
well  aware  that  he  has  told  you  so*." 

"  Yes,  he  has,"  said  Helen,  "  and  he  keeps  telling  me 
so,  which  is  the  best  of  all." 

"  Well,  I  have  great  news  for  you,  Helen,  —  great  and 
good  news  of  Mr.  Audran.  I  expected  it,  but  it  only 
came  last  night  by  telegram." 

"What  is  it,  papa?  Oh,  what?"  cried  Helen,  with 
dilated  eyes. 

"  Only  that  he  has  made  his  fortune,  my  love.  Wealth 
and  honor  have  come  to  him,  as  he  deserves ;  merit  he 
had  before.  He  saved  and  recovered  for  me  a  property 
which  he  has  now  sold  for  a  great  price,  and  he  has 
been  chosen  by  an  overwhelming  vote  to  represent  his 
district  in  Congress ;  and  there  will  be  few  better  men 
than  he  to  meet  him  there.  And,  Nell,  no  sooner  does 
this  come  about  than  he  starts  right  off  to  bring  it  all  to 
you.  He  will  be  here  in  a  fortnight,  and  I  think  you 
ought  to  be  two  happy  people." 

"  You  are  the  best  man  in  this  world,  father,  and  he 


356  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

is  the  next.  You  admit  that  one  half  that  is  true,  Julia, 
and  I  shall  never  rest  till  you  think  the  other  half  true 
also." 

"  It  appears  to  me,"  said  Julia,  "  that  there  's  no  par- 
ticular use  in  my  having  any  mind  of  my  own.  My 
world  seems  to  be  filling  up  rapidly  with  ready-made 
relations  whom  I  never  heard  of  before.  Have  n't  you 
got  a  paragon  or  two  somewhere,  Eugene,  for  my  ac- 
ceptance ? " 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  will  be  when  the  baron  gets 
back,  Jule.  You  said  some  very  fine  things  about  him 
when  we  were  in  Paris.  You  called  him  '  nice.'  " 

Julia  looked  at  him  an  instant,  as  though  she  would 
look  him  into  the  ground.  "  You  unmannerly  boy !  " 
said  she.  "  What  a  shame  to  speak  of  him  so  !  " 

Helen's  face  brightened.  "O  Julia,  I  am  so  glad 
he  went  to  meet  you  !  Is  n't  he  as  charming  as  can  be  ? 
And  he  is  just  as  good  as  he  seems." 

"  I  don't  feel  called  upon  to  make  any  comments 
about  the  baron,"  said  Julia,  "  and  I  beg  you  won't 
commend  me  to  him,  if  you  do  him  to  me.  Oh,  but  this 
is  beautiful ! " 

They  had  reached  the  top  of  the  ravine  over  a  road- 
way carpeted  with  fallen  leaves.  Before  them  was  the 
lakelike  expanse  of  the  Fecht,  and  on  the  right,  above, 
the  green  lawn  stretching  up  to  the  gray  old  castle. 

At  the  porch  on  the  southern  front  stood  Mrs.  Dysart. 
The  illness  which  had  opened  with  such  sudden  and 
alarming  symptoms  had  left  no  trace  upon  her  sweet 
face,  or  rather,  by  the  rest  and  regimen  which  it  had 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  357 

imposed,  had  renewed  its  softness  and  bloom.  Happy 
wife  and  proud  mother !  She  received  her  husband  and 
children  with  an  air  so  charmed  and  so  charming  that 
Mr.  Dysart,  as  he  kissed  her  for  the  third  time,  said, 
"  Eugenia,  it 's  worth  coming  five  thousand  miles  to  see 
you  looking  so  well !  " 

"  And  you  can't  be  very  helpless,  mother,"  said  Julia, 
"  if  you  managed  to  get  into  that  dress.  And  who  in 
the  world  did  your  hair  in  such  a  pretty  way  ? " 

Helen  answered,  "The  baroness's  maid,  Marie,  is 
very  clever,  Julia." 

"  It  was  not  Marie,  to-day,"  said  Mrs.  Dysart.  "  The 
baroness  herself  insisted  upon  superintending  my  toilet, 
and  she  was  as  pleased  as  a  child  with  the  result.  Now, 
Adrian,  give  me  your  left  arm,  —  you  see  what  a  burden 
I  am,  —  and  you  shall  all  come  up  to  my  room  and  sit 
among  my  honeysuckles." 

"  You  all  seem  to  be  immensely  at  home  here,"  re- 
marked Julia. 

"  And  so  will  you  be  before  you  know  it,  my  dear," 
retorted  Mrs.  Dysart. 

The  young  people  carried  Julia  off  first  to  their  own 
chambers,  and  then  to  hers,  and  they  ranged  through 
hall  and  gallery,  bringing  up  by  and  by  on  the  balcony 
over  the  western  front. 

"  This  is  very  nice,  I  must  say,"  owned  Julia.  "  And 
so  you  have  been  here  a  month,  Alice.  What  on  earth 
have  you  found  to  do  ?  " 

"Everything  was  delightful  until  your  mother  was 
taken  sick.  Since  then,  Helen  has  been  with  her  most 


358  MANUELA   PARADES. 

of  the  time.  She  and  the  baroness  would  hardly  ever 
let  me  take  my  turn  in  sitting  with  her." 

"  Alice  has  had  three  gentlemen  to  look  after,"  said 
Helen.  "  I  don't  know  what  she  would  have  done 
without  them  or  what  they  would  have  done  without 
her.  She  distributed  her  attentions  very  fairly  for  a 
while,  but  lately  I  noticed  that  the  baron  and  Eugene 
were  apt  to  go  off  shooting  by  themselves.  This  is  a 
great  place  for  pigeons,  you  know,  —  Hohentauben." 

"Walter  does  n't  care  for  shooting  doves,"  said  Alice. 

"  No,"  said  Eugene,  "  he  preferred  to  study  their  lan- 
guage. And  he  cooed  coo,  cooed  n't  he,  Alice  ?  " 

"  I  dare  say  he  might  if  he  tried.  He  is  a  capable 
young  person,  that  Walter,"  said  Alice.  "  I  am  so  sorry 
he  has  gone,  Julia." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  Julia. 

"  But  he  '11  come  back  to  see  his  brother,  that  is,  if 
Robert  is  really  coming,"  said  Alice ;  "  and  then  you 
will  have  a  chance  to  see  what  he  is  made  of." 

"  And  she  is  maid  —  and  mistress  of  his  affections," 
pursued  Eugene. 

"  And  if  she  is,  she  is  n't  ashamed  of  it,"  said  Alice. 

"  That 's  the  place  where  they  do  it,  Jule,"  said  Eu- 
gene, "  out  in  that  summer-house  which  you  see  there. 
There  is  something  very  peculiar  in  the  air  of  that  sum- 
mer-house. It  takes  the  selfishness  out  of  you,  —  makes 
you  so  kind  and  considerate  of  others,  you  know.  I 
would  not  give  two  cents  for  any  woman's  independence 
of  character,  out  there,  or  any  man's,  either." 

"  Now,"  said  Helen,  "  we  must  go  to  mamma's  room. 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  359 

I  have  a  .very  mysterious  package  for  father,  and  we  are 
all  to  see  it  delivered." 

"Now,  papa,"  she  said,  when  they  were  all  seated, 
"  I  don't  know  what  this  is,  but  it  is  something  impor- 
tant. When  I  was  leaving  the  house  this  morning,  the 
baroness,  all  in  tears,  gave  me  this  package,  and  told 
me  to  give  it  to  you  from  her,  when  our  greetings  were 
over  and  we  were  ready  to  consider  the  circumstances 
of  our  relations  to  her ;  and  that  is  now,  I  suppose.  So 
take  it."  And  she  handed  him  the  long,  thin  packet,  in 
its  fold  of  soft  white  paper. 

There  was  a  hush  of  earnest  expectation  as  Mr.  Dy- 
sart,  with  a  set,  pale  face,  took  the  packet  and  unfolded 
its  envelope.  It  enclosed  another  wrapper  of  purple 
silk,  and  from  the  end  of  that  hung  a  narrow  ribbon  of 
the  same  hue,  to  which  was  attached  the  leaden  seal  of 
St.  Peter  the  Fisherman.  Within  was  a  scroll  of  parch- 
ment, written  in  Latin.  Mr.  Dysart  hesitated  as  he 
deciphered  it.  "  '  Quibus  hae  literag  pervenerint :  Pius 
Nonus,  Pontifex  Supremus,  salutem  in  Domino.  Filia 
ecclesiae  delecta,  Manuela  Paredes,  quae  diu  apud  Col- 
mar  Alsatiae  superioris  vixerat.'  No,  I  cannot  make 
out  this  Latin.  Ah !  here  seems  to  be  a  paper  from 
Manuela.  Yes."  And  he  read  :  — 

ADRIAN,  —  When,  thirty  years  since,  our  ill-considered 
and  unhappy  union  occurred,  civil  marriage  was  not 
known  to  Mexican  law.  The  ceremony  which  joined 
"us  was  of  a  purely  ecclesiastical  nature,  and,  as  such, 
subject  to  the  review  of  the  Head  of  the  Church.  This 


360  MANUELA  PARADES. 

review,  Pio  Nono,  the  Holy  Father,  has  at  my  request 
instituted ;  and,  for  reasons  briefly  set  forth  in  the  ac- 
companying decree,  he  has  annulled  the  marriage,  and 
has  declared  that,  from  the  day  on  which  I  left  your 
house,  you  were  no  longer  bound  to  me.  Your  subse- 
quent marriage  is,  by  this  decree,  cleared  of  any  ques- 
tion which  might  otherwise  have  attached  to  it. 

To  yourself,  to  your  honored  wife  and  her  children,  I 
offer  my  sincere  congratulations  on  this  result.  Shadow 
on  their  lives  shall  never  come  from  me.  Whatever  of 
privilege  or  of  love  you  and  they  may  accord  to  me, 
whatever  charity  you  may  entertain  for  my  conduct 
towa'rd  you,  shall  be  freely  given,  and  will  be  gratefully 
welcomed  by 

MANUELA.  PAREDES  DE  WALDEYER. 

HOHENTAUBEN,  August  30,  187 1. 

Mr.  Dysart  closed  his  reading  with  faltering  voice, 
and  silence  reigned  in  the  room.  Every  eye,  even 
Julia's,  was  swimming  in  tears. 

Mrs.  Dysart  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Dear  creature  ! 
No  one  ever  had  it  in  her  power  so  to  injure  me,  and  no 
one  ever  has  been  so  generously  kind.  What  return 
shall  we  make,  Helen  ? " 

"There  is  only  one  that  can  be  made,  mother,  —  only 
one  which  she  would  consider  a  return.  Again  and 
again  she  has  told  me  that  all  she  desires  is  that,  without 
being  divided  from  you,  I  shall  be  to  her  as  a  daughter, 
—  the  daughter  that  I  am ;  that  I  may  go  and  come 
from  you  to  her,  from  her  to  you,  and  you  shall  think 


AND  MR.  DYSART.  361 

no  ill  of  it ;  that  I  shall  love  her  somewhat  as  she 
loves  and  longs  for  me.  And  it  does  seem  to  me 
that  if  that  marriage  with  father,  which  was  a  wrong  and 
a  fraud  on  both,  had  not  been,  and  if  she  had  been 
married  to  Baron  Waldeyer  who  is  dead,  —  as  she  could 
not  be,  for  no  tribunal  on  earth  would  have  given  her 
the  divorce  which  she  has  procured  for  father,  —  her 
life  would  have  been  as  fair,  as  pure,  as  lovely,  as  that 
of  the  best  of  women.  Now  I  say  that  these  hard  and 
ugly  facts  were  not  of  her  will,  —  not  altogether  of  her- 
self ;  and  that  her  devotion  to  love,  to  truth,  to  light, 
her  triumph  over  wayward  impulses,  and  the  wonderful 
growth  of  her  nature  in  knowledge  and  power  and 
heavenly  tenderness,  are  to  be  taken  as  the  measure  of 
her  character,  and  I  should  be  both  ashamed  and  afraid 
to  turn  from  her." 

Overpowered  with  her  own  earnestness,  she  threw 
herself  on  her  face  on  the  sofa,  sobbing  like  a  little 
child. 

"  Who  among  us  can  deny  her  what  she  asks  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Dysart.  "  But  there  is  another  return,  due  to  our- 
selves, which  must  be  made.  Her  fortune,  while  she 
was  as  dead  to  us,  remained  in  my  hands,  and  has  been 
for  thirty  years  the  basis  of  our  social  position,  the 
foundation  and  the  largest  part  of  what  I  called  my 
own.  It  must  go  back  to  her.  She  has  not  demanded 
it,  she  never  would  do  so  ;  but  none  the  less  must  it  go 
back  to  her.  No  mercenary  thought  ever  stained  her 
soul ;  we  must  be  not  less  careful  of  ours." 

"  But,"  said   Mrs.  Dysart,  "  in  our  first  interviews, 


362  MANUELA   PARADES. 

if  she  did  not  exactly  say  so,  she  certainly  intimated 
that  she  had  the  power  to  injure  us  all  by  her  unsolved 
relations  to  you." 

Helen  raised  her  head  and  said,  "  Yes,  mother,  she 
did  ;  but  she  did  not  know  then  with  whom  she  had  to 
deal.  She  did  take  account  of  all  her  resources,  she 
weighed  every  point  which  could  give  influence  to  her 
claim ;  and  she  stated  them  as  a  matter  which  it  would 
be  proper  for  us  to  consider,  not  as  a  weapon  which  she 
intended  to  use.  Again  and  again  she  has  since  said 
that  what  she  desired  to  win  from  us,  we  being  what  we 
are,  must  come  from  love  and  respect  alone." 

"  Who  could  blame  her,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  for  deal- 
ing with  us  as  she  found  us?  The  Bible  says  of  the 
Lord,  'With  the  pure  he  will  show  himself  pure,  and 
with  the  fro  ward  he  will  show  himself  fro  ward.'  Manu- 
ela  is  as  strong  as  she  is  magnanimous.  I  must  go  and 
see  her.  Why  need  I  wait  two  hours  ? " 

"Let  me  go  first,"  said  Helen,  "and  ask  her.  I 
would  rather,  indeed  I  would." 

"Go,  then,  dear,"  said  her  father ;  and  she  went,  and 
presently  returned. 

"  The  baroness  says  she  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  papa. 
She  will  be  in  the  parlor  whenever  you  are  ready.  Let 
me  brush  your  hair  and  re-tie  your  cravat.  There ! " 


AND   THE  'CHORUS.  363 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

AND   THE   CHORUS. 

TTJX)LLOWING  Helen's  direction,  Mr.  Dysart  reached 
•*•  the  parlor.  The  door  stood  open,  and  through  it 
was  blown  the  fragrance  of  rose  and  jasmine ;  the  cur- 
tains were  drawn  to  exclude  the  afternoon  sun ;  and  the 
beautiful  room,  with  all  its  rich  and  quaint  adornment, 
lay  hushed  and  dim  before  him.  He  paused  an  instant 
on  the  threshold,  before,  in  the  far  corner,  he  detected 
the  figure  of  a  woman,  sitting,  with  averted  face,  near  a 
little  table.  She  was  aware  of  his  approach,  and  yet  she 
did  not  move.  Slowly  he  moved  toward  her,  waiting  for 
a  recognition,  which  she  did  not  give.  "  Madame  Wai- 
deyer,"  said  he.  She  rose,  with  down-dropped  eyes,  and 
a  deep,  graceful  salutation,  and  sank  again  into  her 
chair. 

Mr.  Dysart  advanced,  with  open  hand  outstretched.. 
"  Here  is  my  hand,  Manuela.  Will  you  not  give  me 
yours  ? " 

She  rose  again,  and,  placing  her  hand  in  his,  slowly 
and  timidly  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  face ;  and  then  each, 
with  a  settled  gaze  upon  the  countenance  once  so  familiar, 
read  the  records  of  half  a  lifetime. 

To  both  it  was  a  revelation,  mournful  and  eloquent. 


364  MANUEL  A  PARADES. 

Each  saw  that  the  other  had  grown  out  of  that  life,  once 
so  marked  by  alienation,  into  the  ideal  which  would  have 
made  their  natures  kin  and  sympathetic.  The  exact  and 
cold  logic  of  the  man  was  all  overgrown  with  the  flower 
and  fruit  of  domestic  life  ;  and  the  intense  and  passion- 
ate egotism  of  the  woman  had  faded  in  the  light  of 
mature  reason  and  trained  affections.  Each  had  in 
some  measure  accepted  the  other's  creed  of  life,  and 
each  had  become  distrustful  of  the  impulse  once  all-im- 
portant. In  that  moment  each  knew,  with  the  knowl- 
edge which  depends  neither  on  argument  nor  record, 
that  the  course  of  the  other  had  been  steady  and  true  to 
the  guiding  star  of  their  youthful  heaven.  His  dreams 
had  been  wrought  by  Ambition's  fingers,  her  pictures  all 
shaded  by  Love's  pencil. 

Mr.  Dysart  was  the  first  to  speak  :  "  Manuela,  I  can't 
tell  you  how  beautiful  it  is  to  me  to  find  you  here,  full 
of  love  yourself,  and  shedding  the  comfort  of  love  on 
all  about  you,  —  you  whom,  for  so  many  years,  I  have 
thought  of  as  a  bewildered  and  misguided  soul,  quenched 
in  a  wild  and  wandering  grave." 

"  Heaven  was  good  to  me,"  she  replied.  "  God 
watched  over  those  confused  and  wretched  days  when  I 
left  you  and  your  child.  He  is  good  to  me  now,  in 
bringing  you  both  here  to-day.  And  Heaven  has  been 
very  kind,  too,  in  rebuilding  for  you  a  home  and  a  domes- 
tic circle  richer  and  fairer  far  than  that  which  once  I 
ruined.  For  the  sake  of  your  sweet  wife  and  children, 
and  the  life  and  love  you  have  had  with  them,  you  will 
forgive  me,  Adrian  ?  How  much  I  owe  to  them  all ! " 


AND   THE  CHORUS.  365 

"  And  how  much  my  wife  and  all  of  us  owe  to  you, 
Manuela,  who  have  nursed  her  back  to  life  with  such 
love  and  care  !  " 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful,  Adrian,  that  I,  who  stole  your 
false  wife  away  from  you,  have  been  able  to  do  some- 
thing to  preserve  your  true  wife,  and  restore  her  to  you  ? 
It  is  little,  perhaps ;  but  in  it  I  have  found  ease  of  mind 
and  peace  of  conscience.  In  the  memory  of  all  your 
happy  days  with  her,  and  in  the  light  of  this  moment  of 
forgiveness,  will  you  not  forget  the  wrong  and  the  un- 
happiness  of  our  brief  life  together  ?  " 

"  If  you  will,  Manuela,  —  wrongs  which,  however  the 
world  may  regard  them,  I  well  know  began  with  me  ; 
not  in"  my  will  perhaps,  but  in  my  absorption  and  blind 
pursuit  of  other  objects.  You,  too,  have  much  to  for- 
give." 

"  I  have  not  felt  so,  Adrian.  Next  to  my  desire  for 
my  daughter  has  always  been  the  hope  and  the  purpose 
to  make  whatever  amends  I  might  to  you.  I  have 
watched  in  silence,  but  with  great  pleasure,  all  the 
events  of  your  fortunate  life.  They  have  been  known 
to  me  during  all  these  years ;  and  now,  in  the  package 
which  Helen  has  given  you,  I  have,  as  I  hope,  removed 
the  last  trace  of  anything  which  could  trouble  or  com- 
promise you  or  your  family.  In  those  dark  days,  when 
we  were  almost  forbidden  to  hope  for  Mrs.  Dysart's  life 
from  hour  to  hour,  I  prayed  with  my  whole  heart  that, 
before  she  died,  she  might  know  that  I  never  would  and 
never  could  injure  you  or  her,  and  that  her  own  record 
was  from  the  first  beyond  a  question." 


366  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  It  would  not  be  possible,  Manuela,  to  be  more 
thoughtful  and  more  magnanimous  than  you  have  been. 
Mrs.  Dysart  feels  it  as  I  do,  as  Helen  does.  And  Helen 
is  so  fond  and  proud  of  her  mother  ! " 

Mr.  Dysart  had  been  standing  before  her,  leaning 
upon  a  pedestal  which  supported  a  bust  of  Dante.  The 
baroness,  with  a  quick  impulse,  rose  and  went  to  him, 
took  both  his  hands  in  hers,  and,  with  dewy,  appealing 
eyes,  she  said,  "  Then  it  will  be  so,  — you  are  willing  that 
it  shall  be  so.  Helen  may  love  me  as  her  mother,  and  I 
may  cherish  her  as  my  daughter !  It  has  been  this  hope 
which  has  guided  every  step  of  mine  since  first  I  went 
forth  to  seek  her.  Every  dream,  every  image,  seen 
in  absence,  wrought  in  hope,  is  more  than  filled  and 
satisfied  in  her.  She  is  beautiful  to  me,  —  so  clear,  so 
strong,  so  sure,  so  sweet.  But  no  thought  of  mine,  no 
love  of  mine,  no  care  of  hers  for  me,  shall  ever  limit  or 
abridge  her  life.  There  must  be  some  way  in  which  I 
may  be  always  a  help  to  her,  and  never  a  burden.  I  did 
not  watch  or  soothe  her  infancy,  and  I  must  not 
compromise  her  womanhood ;  but  I  know  I  shall  have 
strength  to  stand  with  her  and  by  her  when  I  am  help- 
ful, and  to  stand  away  if  ever  my  presence  should 
embarrass. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  publish  or  declare  to  the  world 
our  relation  to  each  other.  I  ask  nothing  of  the  sort 
from  any  of  you.  Let  not  one  particle  of  the  claim  or 
love  of  any  other  being  be  withdrawn  from  her  because 
mine  is  added." 

Mr.  Dysart  smiled.     "  Happy  Helen !  "  said  he,  "  she 


AND   THE  CHORUS.  367 

is  rich  in  love.  But  neither  father  nor  mother,  brother 
nor  sister,  can  keep  the  first  and  nearest  place  with  her. 
Mr.  Audran  comes  to  claim  that,  with  my  full  sanction 
and  encouragement." 

"  Did  you  say  that  he  is  coming,  —  coming  now  ? "  cried 
the  baroness  eagerly.  "  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  and  I 
Jcnew  he  would  not  come  in  vain.  If  he  is  nearest  to 
Helen's  heart,  I  am  glad  for  him  and  her.  I  might 
have  wished  for  her  a  greater  place,  but  I  could  hardly 
have  found  a  better  man." 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,"  said  Mr.  Dysart.  "  But  in  these  few 
weeks  honor  and  fortune  have  come  to  him,  and  it  is 
because  they  are  come  that  he  hastens  to  ask  Helen 
to  share  them."  And  Mr.  Dysart  told  the  outline  of  the 
story. 

"  Oh,  I  must  see  Helen  at  once  ! "  cried  the  baroness ; 
and  she  moved  toward  the  bell. 

"  One  moment ! "  said  Mr.  Dysart,  stopping  her. 
"  Manuela,  you  have  made  haste  to  return  to  me  my 
personal  liberty :  it  is  even  more  due  to  you  and  my- 
self that  I  should  restore  to  you  the  fortune  which  has 
been  for  so  long  a  time  in  my  keeping.  I  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  confess  that,  believing  you  dead,  and  that  no 
legal  heirs  of  your  estate  existed  except  our  daughter 
Helen,  I  have  held  it  hitherto  as  my  own.  Helen  has 
always  been  liberally  cared  for,  and  it  was  my  purpose, 
as  shown  by  every  will  which  I  have  made,  that  she 
should  receive  a  much  larger  portion  of  my  estate  than 
my  other  children.  But  now  this  matter  must  either  be 
settled  between  us  or  it  must  be  referred  to  your  law- 
yers, with  whom  I  may  adjust  it." 


368  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  Let  us  adjust  it  between  ourselves,  and  now,"  said 
the  baroness.  "There  is  no  need  of  consulting  other 
people.  It  may  be  done  easily." 

"  But  I  must  tell  you,  to  be  fair,"  said  Mr.  Dysart, 
"  that  if  lawyers  were  employed  they  would  no  doubt 
require  of  me  an  account  of  all  the  money  received 
from  your  father's  property,  and  would  reckon  interest 
from  the  time  when  it  was  so  received.  It  would  amount 
to  a  very  large  sum." 

"  There  shall  be  no  such  reckoning,"  said  the  baroness. 
"  You  shall  tell  me,  as  nearly  as  your  memory  may  serve, 
what  the  original  amounts  were.  You  were  entitled,  as  a 
joint  owner,  to  your  proportion ;  as  the  agent,  by  whose 
aid  alone  these  results  could  have  been  reached,  you 
were  entitled  to  a  liberal  commission  ;  as  the  trustee 
who  has  kept  them,  to  another ;  and,  for  the  expenses 
of  Helen's  care  and  education,  to  another." 

"  Still,"  said  Mr.  Dysart,  "  with  every  possible  deduc- 
tion (of  course  I  have  reviewed  this  matter  carefully  in 
anticipation),  there  should  come  to  you  not  less  than 
one"  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars, — seven  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  francs." 

"It  is  a  large  sum,  certainly,"  said  the  baroness. 
"And  may  I,  without  presumption,  ask  how  far  it  will 
be  possible  for  you,  without  embarrassment,  to  replace 
it?" 

"  It  would  have  been  a  very  serious  matter  to  me  till 
recently;  but  it  is  so  no  longer.  Mr.  Audran  and  I  have 
just  sold  a  mine  in  Colorado,  and  my  share  of  the  price 
obtained  will  reach  at  least  the  amount  named.  The 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  369 

money  has  never  been  in  my  hands,  and  therefore  to 
part  with  it  will  not  alter  in  the  least  the  position  of  my 
affairs  as  they  have  hitherto  stood." 

"  And  Mr.  Audran  is  the  only  other  party  interested 
in  this  mine  ?  "  inquired  the  baroness  thoughtfully. 

"  He  is,  or  was,  the  only  other  owner." 

"  Then,  Mr.  Dysart,  if  you  will  here  and  now  (I  wish 
to  have  it  done  here  and  now)  prepare  a  paper,  by  which 
you  convey  to  me  all  your  rights  and  interest  in  this 
mine  and  its  sale,  I  will  also  prepare,  here  and  now, 
one  which  shall  release  you  from  all  pecuniary  obligation 
to  me.  These  papers  may  not  be  very  formal  or  law- 
proof,  but,  at  any  rate,  one  will  be  as  good  as  the  other. 
Please  go  to  that  writing-table  and  write  yours.  I  will 
do  mine  here." 

A  few  moments  later  Helen  entered.  The  dim  light 
and  the  utter  silence  startled  her,  and  she  was  still  more 
surprised  to  see  her  father  and  the  baroness  seated  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  room,  with  averted  faces,  busily 
engaged  in  writing.  "I  —  I  —  hope  I  —  do  not  inter- 
rupt any  business  ?  "  said  she  slowly. 

"  You  come  in  good  time,  dear,"  answered  the  baron- 
ess. "  Wait  a  minute."  She  carried  her  paper  and 
laid  it  on  Mr.  Dysart's  desk.  He  handed  his  to  her  ; 
she  read  it.  "  That  is  broad  enough  and  strong  enough, 
I  think,"  said  she.  Then  she  sat  down  again,  and 
wrote  upon  it  an  indorsement.  "  All  the  within-named 
rights  and  interests  I  hereby  entirely  and  uncondition- 
ally give  and  transfer  to  my  daughter,  Helen  Parades 
Dysart." 

24 


370  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

"  Helen,"  said  she,  "  did  you  know  that  your  father 
owned  a  mine  in  Colorado  ?  He  has  made  an  exchange 
with  me,  and  has  given  me  his  interest  in  that  to  replace 
mine  in  Mexico.  And  now  the  Clarita  Mine  belongs 
entirely  to  two  of  my  friends,  —  to  Miss  Helen  Dysart 
and  Mr.  Robert  Audran.  This  is  the  deed  of  it,  which 
I  give  you.  And  now,  Helen,  there  is  peace  and  for- 
giveness between  your  father  and  myself,  and  there  is 
love  unforbidden  between  you  and  me  forevermore. 
Kiss  me,  my  darling",  and  I  will  not  be  jealous  of  Robert, 
and  he  shall  not  be  jealous  of  me." 

"  But,  mother,  this  mine  is  worth  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
doing." 

"  If  it  were  worth  three  million,  Helen,  it  means  the 
Parades  property  ;  and  is  not  your  name  Parades,  and 
are  you  not  the  only  heir  of  your  grandfather?  I  know 
exactly  what  I  am  doing.  I  am  keeping  for  myself  the 
royalty,  which  is  all  that  my  father's  mine  now  produces 
for  its  former  owners ;  and  I  am  giving  the  rest,  which 
was  never  worth  anything  to  me,  to  my  own,  my  only, 
my  darling  daughter.  And  what  a  pleasure  it  is  to 
do  so!" 

"  You  are  too  good,"  said  Helen,  —  "  so  good  that  you 
frighten  me.  Now,  father,  am  I  to  take  this  fortune,  — 
thrown  into  my  lap  as  if  it  were  a  toy  ? " 

"It  is  a  grand  gift,  Helen,  grandly  and  beautifully 
given.  I  think  you  must  take  it,  —  you  and  Mr.  Au- 
dran. It  may  brighten  your  future  ;  it  will  clear  and 
sweeten  our  past." 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  3/1 

"  And  now,"  said  the  baroness,  glancing  at  the  Pom- 
padour clock  in  the  corner,  "  let  us  have  all  the  others 
here.  Dinner  will  be  announced  presently." 

In  due  time  they  appeared.  Helen  presented  Julia. 
The  baroness  received  her  simply  and  cordially. 

"  And  this  is  Miss  Julia,"  said  she.  "  How  much  I 
have  speculated  about  her!  She  has  come  to  answer 
all  my  questions.  You  are  very  welcome  to  Hohen- 
tauben,  my  dear.  I  hope  my  baron  has  made  you 
understand  that  in  advance." 

"  Hohentauben  is  a  lovely  place,"  said  Julia  amiably. 

"Look  at  it  from  this  window,"  said  the  baroness, 
drawing  her  into  an  embrasure.  "  It  is  an  ancient 
barony,  given  to  the  Waldeyers  by  the  Emperor  Ru- 
dolph, when  he  was  only  Landgrave  of  Alsace.  It  has 
been  in  the  family  ever  since,  —  six  hundred  years. 
The  baron  is  the  last  of  his  race." 

"  He  is  not  very  much  in  sympathy  with  feudal  an- 
cestors," said  Julia.  "  He  seems  to  me  a  very  good 
republican." 

"  And  not  the  less  good,"  answered  the  baroness,  "  in 
that  he  divests  himself  of  the  pride  and  the  privilege  of 
his  family  for  the  sake  of  his  opinions." 

"  Does  he  spend  much  time  here  ? "  asked  Julia. 

"  No,"  said  the  baroness.  "  His  whole  heart  has 
been  in  his  military  life.  It  is  only  since  the  death  of 
his  brother  that  he  has  come  here  to  protect  and  cheer 
my  solitude.  The  estate  belongs  to  him.  I  am  only  a 
tenant-at-will." 

"  And  is  not  the  care  of  the  estate  an  immense  bur- 
den ? "  asked  Julia. 


372  MANUELA   PARADES. 

"  Not  necessarily,"  said  the  baroness.  "  It  has  been 
a  great  study  to  me,  and  a  great  pleasure.  The  late 
baron  allowed  me  to  manage  it.  There  are  forty-two 
farms,  and,  with  the  people  about  the  house,  nearly  two 
hundred  tenants  ;  and,  though  I  give  much  of  my  time 
to  it  when  I  am  here,  I  have  so  good  a  steward  that  it 
goes  perfectly  well  in  my  absence." 

"  Madame  est  servie,"  announced  the  butler,  with  great 
gravity. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  said  the  baroness,  offering  her 
arm  to  Julia.  "  Mrs.  Dysart,  will  you  conduct  your 
husband  ?  Keep  your  own  place  on  my  right ;  the 
next  is  for  Mr.  Dysart.  And  you,  Miss  Julia,  are  to 
sit  here,  next  to  Helen.  I  cannot  spare  her  from  my 
left." 

The  baroness  was  at  her  very  best  that  day.  The 
quickness  with  which  she  caught  and  followed  every 
thought,  uttered  or  unexpressed,  the  ingenuity  with 
which  she  charmed  away  every  sense  of  oppression  or 
restraint,  were  no  novelty  to  Helen  and  her  mother ; 
but  to  Mr.  Dysart  they  were  a  mystery,  and  to  Julia  a 
perfect  fascination. 

Some  hours  later,  coffee  was  served  in  the  summer- 
house  by  the  river,  and  the  young  people  went  off  by 
themselves  for  a  stroll  up  the  ravine  of  the  Vogelbach. 

"  Well,  Julia,"  said  Alice,  "  what  do  you  think  of  the 
baroness  now  ? " 

"  I  think  she  is  charming,"  answered  Julia  ;  "  but  she 
puzzles  me.  She  sets  all  my  ideas  of  life  wrong.  I  do 
not  know  whether  it  is  her  wonderful  tact,  or  what  it  is, 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  373 

that  gets   inside  of  everybody's  defences.     I  did  not 
mean  to  like  her." 

"  I  told  you  in  Paris,  Julia,"  said  Eugene,  "  that  it  was 
less  tact  than  the  quickness  of  her  sympathies  and  the 
kindness  of  her  heart.  You  will  believe  it  more  and 
more  every  day." 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  like  her  either,"  said  Alice.  "  I  said 
some  very  harsh  things  about  her  that  morning  when 
we  met  her  on  the  boat,  Eugene  ;  but  I  have  never  said 
them  since,  and  I  do  not  feel  them  now.  Helen  and  Mr. 
Audran  believed  in  her  from  the  first.  Is  n't  it  strange 
that  we  younger  people  should  have  been  more  incredu- 
lous and  intolerant  than  our  elders  and  betters  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Eugene  thoughtfully.  "  I  sup- 
pose that  older  people  feel  how  easy  and  how  human  it 
is  to  err,  and  how  rare  and  difficult  to  redeem  a  fault,  as 
she  has  done.  But  this  case,  I  am  sure,  is  not  to  be 
judged  by  any  rule ;  it  is  one  by  itself,  and  there  will 
never  be  another  like  it." 

The  loth  of  September  was  fixed  for  their  departure 
from  Hohentauben.  Mr.  Au'dran  might  be  expected  in 
Paris  on  the  i6th.  Mrs.  Dysart  was  now  quite  well 
enough  to  travel,  and  felt  that  she  had  been  admonished 
not  to  remain  longer  abroad. 

The  baron  returned  on  the  second  day,  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  orders  to  report  in  Washington  by 
the  first  of  November;  and  the  baroness  immediately 
decided  to  accompany  him.  In  the  week  that  remained, 
he  was  anxious  to  redeem  his  promise  to  show  Mr.  Dysart 
something  of  the  Vosges  and  Alsace.  The  younger 


374  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

people  were  always  ready ;  the  baroness  preferred  to 
stay  with  Mrs.  Dysart ;  Helen  generally  remained  with 
them. 

Letters  from  Mr.  Audran  came  at  intervals  of  a  few 
days.  The  most  important  facts  had  already  been  an- 
nounced by  telegram ;  but,  to  Helen,  the  events  of  his 
life  were  less  interesting  than  the  portrait  of  his  mind 
which  she  read  on  every  page.  He  was  coming,  —  com- 
ing to  claim  her.  The  letters  did  not  yet  declare  it ; 
but  they  reported  the  progress  of  negotiations  about 
the  mine,  and  of  a  political  canvass,  the  result  of  which 
had  already  been  learned  by  cable.  Day  by  day,  as  this 
result  became  more  clearly  outlined,  Robert  made  it 
evident  that,  whenever  either  event  were  realized,  he 
should  seek  her  again.  The  dearest  fruit  of  success 
would  be  that  he  might  claim  her  consent  to  grace  and 
guide  his  opening  career. 

At  length  a  letter  of  August  24  told  of  his  election. 
He  would  take  his  seat  at  the  coming  session,  in  Decem- 
ber. Would  she  be  with  him  ?  That  question  he  should 
ask  her  face  to  face.  There  was  no  longer  time  to  wait 
her  permission  to  come  on  such  an  errand  :  he  should 
come.  The  sale  of  the  mine  would  almost  certainly  be 
effected  within  three  days.  His  position  then  would  be 
assured,  —  one  worthy  of  her,  and  his  love  for  her.  "I 
shall  telegraph  the  result,"  he  wrote.  "  You  will  know 
how  it  has  gone  long  before  you  read  this  diary  of  my 
hopes,  and  their  delay." 

Meantime,  the  days  passed  rapidly.  Every  morning 
Mr.  Dysart,  Julia,  Alice,  and  Eugene  went  forth  with  the 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  375 

baron  on  some  new  quest,  leaving  Helen  with  the  elder 
ladies,  by  whom  her  new  life  was  proudly  and  fondly  dis- 
cussed and  planned. 

Helen  had  taken  great  pains  that  Julia  should  remain 
ignorant  how  far  matters  had  gone  between  the  baron  and 
herself ;  and  the  baron  came  to  believe  that  in  her  conver- 
sation with  him  she  had  almost  indicated  that  he  might 
find  in  the  younger  sister  that  which  the  elder  withheld. 
The  poor  baron  !  With  many  a  twinge  of  sharp  com- 
punction at  his  own  infidelity,  he  perceived  that  he  was 
daily  becoming  more  sensitive  to  the  charm  of  Julia's 
bright  and  warm  enthusiasm  and  quick  perceptions  and 
enjoyments.  Enveloped  in  the  fresh  life  of  these  young 
people,  it  was  impossible  to  be  always  thinking  of  a 
drama  closed  and  a  curtain  rung  down. 

Mr.  Audran's  relations  with  the  Dysarts  were  too  in- 
timate and  pressing  to  escape  discussion,  even  in  his 
presence ;  and  the  baron  said  to  himself,  "  I  might  bet- 
ter do  my  duty,  —  congratulate  Miss  Dysart  on  her  lover 
and  his  fortunes.  It  will  put  us  at  once  on  more  easy 
and  more  natural  terms  ;  and  the  sooner  it  is  done,  the 
better." 

So  he  made  his  opportunity  by  detaining  her  one 
evening,  after  the  others  had  left,  —  a  stratagem  which 
she  easily  detected,  but  to  which  she  yielded,  for  she 
could  well  divine  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

"  I  have  a  word  for  you,  Miss  Dysart,"  said  he,  "  if  you 
will  give  me  a  few  moments.  Day  by  day  I  have  been 
realizing  and  appreciating  the  truth  and  the  kindness 
with  which  you  spoke  when  I  dared  to  lay  my  heart  open 


376  MANUEL  A   PARADES.  . 

before  you.  You  tried  to  make  me  believe  that  I  had 
mistaken  my  own  mind,  because  you  knew  —  none  so  well 
as  you  —  how  utterly  closed  for  me  was  the  path  along 
which  I  had  permitted  it  to  travel.  I  should  not  have 
suffered  such  feeling  to  grow  within  me,  if  I  had  not  be- 
lieved you  free.  I  have  heard  how  fortune  has  befriended 
Mr.  Audran,  how  vital  and  well-assured  are  his  hopes ; 
and  in  learning  this  I  have  also  learned  how  gently  and 
kindly  you  dealt  with  mine.  I  owe  you  thanks  :  why 
should  I  not  speak  them  ?  I  am  so  sincere  in  my  desire 
for  your  honor  and  happiness  that  I  must  congratulate 
you  on  their  assured  establishment.  In  the  same  terms 
I  shall  congratulate  Mr.  Audran,  when  I  meet  him.  He 
can  neither  wonder  nor  blame  me  that  I  recognized  all 
that  he  so  highly  values."  And  then  he  paused. 

Helen  answered,  "  There  is  nothing  too  good  for  you, 
Baron  Waldeyer.  You  have  paid  me  the  highest  of 
compliments  in  so  fully  understanding  and  acknowledg- 
ing what  I  wished  and  tried  to  do.  Your  thanks  I  return 
to  you  with  interest.  I  am  not  yet  pledged  to  Mr.  Au- 
dran :  how  soon  I  may  be,  I  do  not  know ;  but  then,  as 
now,  I  shall  remember  with  infinite  gratitude  your  feel- 
ing for  me,  and  the  noble  way  in  which  you  replace  it 
with  one  which  asks  no  more  than  a  return  of  confidence 
and  respect.  Now,  at  any  rate,  you  are  to  be  my  friend 
for  life.  Let  there  never  be  cloud  or  reserve  between 
us!" 

She  bade  him  good-night,  and  each  felt  a  sense  of  re- 
lief as  they  parted  in  the  hall. 

The  day  of  departure  arrived.     Leaving  on  the  loth, 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  377 

they  hoped  to  reach  Paris  by  the  i2th;  and  the  bar- 
oness, who  could  hardly  bear  Helen  out  of  her  sight, 
asked  permission  to  join  them  on  the  2oth. 

"  It  will  be  all  over  with  you  by  that  time,  Helen,"  said 
she.  "  And  who  knows  what  cares  may  not  then  be 
coming  on  you  ?  .Your  mother  cannot  go  out  with  you 
much,  and  Julia  is  a  stranger  in  Paris.  You  will  want 
me  to  introduce  you  to  all  my  tradesmen.  If  my  daugh- 
ter should  happen  to  be  in  Washington  this  winter,  she 
must  go  as  befits  her  position  and  fortune.  What  do  you 
say  about  that,  darling  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  if  none  of  us  specu- 
lated on  such  a  contingency  at  present,"  said  Helen. 
"  You  will  come  to  Paris,  at  any  rate,  mother.  Per- 
haps I  may  return  to  Hohentauben  with  you.  In  any 
case,  you  shall  have  your  full  share  in  any  experience  of 
mine." 

Breaking  their  journey -by  a  halt  at  Nancy,  they 
reached  Paris  without  events  on  the  second  day ;  and 
Mr.  Dysart  at  once  telegraphed  to  the  steamer 
"  Mosel,"  at  Southampton,  that  Mr.  Audran  would 
find  them  at  the  Hotel  Splendide. 

At  noon  of  the  i6th  Mr.  Audran  answered  from 
Havre  that  he  hoped  to  reach  Paris  by  the  train  at  seven 
the  same  evening.  It  was  proposed  that  they  should 
wait  dinner  for  him,  but  Helen  objected.  "  Mr.  Audran 
will  be  tired  and  travel-stained,"  said  she,  "  in  no  mood 
for  a  dinner  party  "  ;  to  which  Alice  provokingly  inter- 
posed, "  Oh,  very  well,  dear.  You  want  him  all  for  your- 
self ;  that 's  natural  enough."  Eugene  added,  "  We  must 


378  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

let  them  adjust  their  little  differences,  you  know,  before 
we  shall  know  how  to  behave." 

"  The  rest  of  you  may  do  as  you  like,"  said  Mr. 
Dysart,  "but  I  am  going  to  the  train  to  fetch  him. 
Whatever  he  may  be  to  the  rest  of  you,  he  is  better  than 
any  other  man  to  me." 

Helen's  grateful  glance  answered  for  one,  at  least. 

It  was  half-past  seven  when  the  gentlemen  exchanged 
their  greetings  on  the  platform.  Each  could  give  to  all 
the  questions  of  the  other  the  most  satisfactory  answers, 
as  they  drove  toward  the  hotel. 

Yes,  everybody  was  well.  Mrs.  Dysart's  accident 
was  but  an  accident,  and  the  traces  of  it  were  fast  leav- 
ing her.  They  were  all  going  home;  and  he,  —  had  he 
come  over  to  go  back  with  them  ? 

"  There  is  only  one  who  can  answer  that  question," 
said  Mr.  Audran,  "and  her  answer  I  must  have  to- 
night." 

Would  Mrs.  Dysart  excuse  him  for  the  present,  and 
would  Miss  Helen  see  him  very  soon  ? 

"  Yes,  we  will  all  keep  in  the  background,  — the  proper 
position  for  parents  and  friends  in  such  cases,  —  till  we 
are  called  in  to  play  our  part.  In  fact,  Mr.  Audran,  I 
think  the  rest  of  us  might  as  well  go  to  the  opera.  Shall 
I  tell  Helen  that  you  will  meet  her  in  the  parlor  in  half 
an  hour  ? " 

"  Oh,  thank  you !  In  half  an  hour,  or  less,"  answered 
Robert. 

Helen  was  prompt  to  the  appointment.  "  He  shall 
see  me  as  he  left  me,"  she  thought,  as_she  looked  at 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  3/9 

her  dress  of  white  grape  silk,  and  the  Sofrana  roses 
in  her  hair.  She  was  standing,  with  beating  heart,  be 
tween  the  curtains  of  the  window  when  he  entered  the 
room,  and  as  she  turned  to  meet  him  the  soft  light,  fil- 
tering through  the  crimson  screen  around  the  lustre,  fell 
on  her  flushing  cheek  and  ivory  throat. 

"  Helen  ! "  said  he,  with  outstretched  hand  and  ap- 
pealing glance. 

"  O  Robert !  " 

"  Helen,  have  I  come  for  good  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed,"  said  she. 

"  And  you  will  not  send  me  away  again  ? " 

"  I  will  not  send  you  away." 

"  You  will  bid  me  stay  ?  " 

"  I  will  bid  you  do  what  is  in  your  own  heart,  Robert." 

"  And  you  will  be  my  wife,  Helen  ? " 

"  If  you  ask  me,  by  and  by  I  will." 

"  I  have  done  nothing  but  ask  you  for  two  months. 
Did  I  not  ask  you  in  that  parlor  at  Interlaken,  you 
beauty  ? " 

"  Bygones  do  not  count." 

"  Then  I  ask  you  here  and  now,  and  there  must  be 
only  one  answer.  You  belong  to  me,  Helen !  No 
other  woman  is  worth  my  while.  There  is  not  another 
soul  to  whom  I  could  or  would  give  your  share  in  all 
my  life,  my  thoughts,  my  pleasures,  my  hopes,  here  and 
hereafter.  There  is  not  another  whose  nature  I  can 
understand  or  can  reverence  as  I  do  yours." 

"  All  this  you  will  do  ? " 

"  And  more.     I  will  wonder  every  day  and  all  day 


380  MANUELA   PARADES. 

that  anything  so  sweet,  so  sure,  so  rare,  should  have 
come  to  me  after  so  many  years." 

"  Then,  Robert,  my  lord,  you  are  all  I  want ! "  She 
lifted  to  him  her  face,  radiant  with  the  glow  of  a  heart 
unveiled,  of  a  hope  fulfilled.  Her  white  arms  were 
closed  around  his  neck  with  an  instinct  unquestioned 
now,  for  his  kiss  was  on  her  lips,  and  his  breast  absorbed 
the  beatings  of  her  own. 

And  then,  after  a  while,  she  released  herself,  and 
smoothed  her  ruffled  plumage  and  dried  her  happy  tears, 
and  said,  "  Come  !  Do  you  hear  that  music  ? " 

A  band  on  the  opposite  balcony  was  playing  one  of 
Verdi's  waltzes.  Again  she  stretched  her  arms  toward 
him,  and  away  they  went,  whirling  down  the  long  sa- 
loon ;  then  suddenly  she  stopped,  placed  her  dimpled 
hand  on  his  chest,  saying,  "  You  dear  man !  I  forgot 
that  bullet  through  your  lungs  !  "  and  he  answered,  — 

"  You  charming  woman !  I  forgot  your  strained 
shoulder,  which  I  shall  kiss  twice,  —  once  for  now,  and 
once  for  the  time  when  I  wished  I  might  and  did 
not." 

"  Yes,  but  then  I  kissed  you.  I  have  blushed  every 
time  I  thought  of  it  since;  but  if  I  never  had  kissed 
you  again,  I  should  always  have  been  glad  I  did  it 
then." 

"You  kissed  me?  You  absorbed  me,  you  mean. 
Ypu  drew  every  spark,  every  shade,  of  my  resistance 
with  them  when  you  took  those  sweet  lips  away.  I  said 
I  would,  —  I  should,  —  all  the  world  should  not  keep 
me  from  having  a  thousand  more." 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  381 

"But  not  all  at  once,  sir.  Sit  down  now,  and  tell 
me  how  we  are  going  to  live,  and  where." 

"  First,  tell  me  when  we  are  going  to  begin,"  said  he. 

"  Oh,  dear  me,  Robert,  are  we  not  happy  enough 
now  ?  Tell  me,  Mr.  Legislator,  am  I  to  have  a  court  at 
Washington  ?  And  will  you  go  with  the  dear  baroness 
and  me  to  get  those  robes  of  state  which  she  is  design- 
ing for  your  receptions  ?  All  the  cow-boys  of  Colorado 
will  be  there  to  tread  on  them,  won't  they  ?  " 

"  The  baroness  must  come  to  us,  must  not  she,  Helen? 
She  will  make  such  a  grand,  such  a  splendid  cha- 
perone  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  "  she  is  superb  in  a  drawing-room 
in  the  evening ;  but  you  don't  know,  sir,  how  sweet, 
how  fascinating,  how  frolicsome  she  is  in  her  cham- 
ber in  the  morning.  That  is  not  for  you,  or  the  like 
of  you.  What  do  you  know  of  the  charm  which  a 
veteran  woman  of  society  has  for  a  young  questioning 
thing  like  me  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  one  woman  who  need  ask  ques- 
tions of  none,  —  who  knows  always  exactly  how  to  be- 
have, and  how  to  make  others  behave  too." 

"  That 's  me,  of  course,"  said  Helen.  "  Yes,  the 
baroness  must  come,  sir,  and  by  and  by  Julia  and  the 
baron.  Do  you  know  I  am  going  to  make  those  two 
people  just  as  happy  as  we  are  ?  The  baron  would 
have  fallen  in  love  with  me,  if  I  would  have  allowed  it, 
—  seriously  in  love  !  He  is  too  serious,  by  half,  for  me  ; 
but  Julia  is  a  match  for  him, — just  as  intense  and  strong 
a  creature  as  himself.  And  Walter  and  Alice  too : 


382  MANUELA   PARADES. 

Is  n't  it  just  as  it  should  be  ?  Answer  me,  you  marry- 
ing man,  with  a  big  household  all  ready  for  you  !  " 

"You  don't  mean  to  be  crowded,  do  you,  Helen  ?" 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  crowded  out  of  your  company, 
Robert.  I  am  going  to  hunt  up  all  your  data  and  sta- 
tistics in  the  congressional  library,  and  then  I  am  going 
into  the  gallery  to  hear  you  rehearse  them,  Mr.  Speaker. 
I  am  going  to  put  you  into  the  Cabinet — or  some- 
where !  " 

It  was  nearly  twelve  when  this  small  talk  was  brought 
to  a  timely  end  by  the  arrival  of  the  remainder  of  the 
party  from  the  opera.  Alice  ran  on  in  advance,  and 
opened  the  door  of  the  parlor. 

"  We  may  come  in  now,  may  n't  we,  Helen  ?  I  am 
dying  to  see  Mr.  Audran,"  shaking  hands  heartily. 
"  It 's  all  right,  I  know,"  said  she,  "  just  as  well  as  if  I 
had  been  in  the  room  all  this  time." 

"Yes,  it's  all  right,"  said  Robert.  "Helen  is  an 
angel." 

"We're  all  angels,"  said  Helen.  "Everything  is 
celestial,  through  and  through." 

"  Now  why  can't  Walter  come  ?  "  said  Alice. 

"  He  is  coming,  you  dear  girl,"  said  Robert.  "  I  tele- 
graphed him  from  Havre,  and  he  says  he  will  be  here 
next  week." 

"  Next  week  ?  "  said  Alice.  "  Oh,  deary  dear !  Why 
can't  he  come  now  ?  We  must  go  home  in  a  fortnight, 
and  who  knows  when  we  shall  see  him  again  ? " 

Robert  had  escaped  from  her,  and  was  talking  to  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Dysart ;  then  he  turned  to  Julia.  "  I  am  go- 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  383 

ing  to  drop  the  '  Miss,'  and  say  Julia,  if  I  may,  —  sister 
Julia,  perhaps,  in  time.     Am  I  getting  along  too  fast  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Audran.  I  am  a  cipher,  a  non- 
entity. I  am  the  walking  lady  of  this  opera." 

"  But  they  call  you  queen,  —  Queen  Julia,"  said  he, 
and  I  think  I  know  why ;  and  I  wish  to  be  one  of  your 
Majesty's  lieges  "  ;  and  he  raised  her  hand  to  his  lips. 

The  days  went  by.  The  baroness  and  Walter  came, 
and  later  the  baron.  Every  one  seemed  to  be  im- 
mensely busy.  The  coterie  rarely  met  before  dinner. 
By  twos  or  threes,  in  carriages,  each  party,  all  day,  pur- 
sued their  special  quests,  and  Helen  and  Robert  could 
not  be  made  to  join  them  at  theatre  or  opera  in  the 
evening. 

The  outer  world  learned,  by  and  by,  what  came  of. 
such  activity,  from  the  columns  of   that   chronicle   of 
gossip,  the  "  Swiss  Times."     On  October  8  its  Parisian 
correspondent  wrote,  — 

"  We  have  to  report  an  event  brilliant  in  itself,  and 
doubtless  interesting  to  many  Americans  in  Europe. 
Yesterday,  at  the  American  Chapel,  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Ganmor,  of  New  York,  were  married  the  Hon.  Robert 
Audran,  M.  C.  elect  from  Colorado,  and  Miss  Helen  P. 
Dysart,  daughter  of  the  well-known  banker,  Adrian  Dy- 
sart,  of  New  York.  The  ceremony  was  followed  by  a 
reception,  tendered  by  the  American  Minister  to  his 
national  representative.  The  company,  though  not  large, 
comprised  many  prominent  Americans.  The  bride  was 
very  much  admired,  not  less  for  her  beauty  than  for  her 
graceful  and  elegant  manners.  She  was  attended  by 


384  MANUEL  A   PARADES. 

her  whole  family,  assembled  in  Paris  for  the  occasion ; 
the  bridegroom  by  his  brother,  a  student  at  Heidelberg, 
and  by  General  de  Waldeyer  and  the  Dowager  Baroness 
Waldeyer  of  Alsace.  It  is  said  that  the  Hon.  Mr.  Au- 
dran  had  been  their  guest  for  a  considerable  period  in 
the  early  part  of  the  season  at  Colmar,  and  that,  while 
travelling  with  them  in  Switzerland,  he  met  Madame 
Dysart  and  her  three  daughters,  and  renewed  an  ac- 
quaintance which  had  previously  existed  in  America, 
whither  the  parties  are  soon  to  return.  Baron  de  Wal- 
deyer also  is  accredited  with  some  important  political 
mission  to  Washington." 

For  later  information  we  are  referred  to  the  following 
letter  to 

WALTER  AUDRAN,  ESQ.,  28  LEOPOLD  STRASSE, 
HEIDELBERG. 

WASHINGTON,  March  i,  1878. 

DEAR  WALTER,  —  To-morrow  I  am  going  home  to  New 
Brunswick,  after  a  delightful  visit  of  three  weeks.  Of 
the  gayeties  of  the  first  ten  days  I  have  already  written. 
With  the  coming  in  of  Lent  the  great  receptions  were 
discontinued.  Since  then  we  have  been  dined  and 

wined  only  three  times,  I  believe,  —  at ,  and , 

and  .     Early  in  the  season    the   invitations  were 

addressed  to  the  Hon.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Audran,  only ; 
but  since  we  have  been  sufficiently  advertised,  they  are 
so  constructed  as  to  include  us  all.  We  are  "  the  Au- 
drans  and  Waldeyers,"  —  a  new  party,  in  which  society 


AND   THE   CHORUS.  385 

evinces  uncommon  interest.  Robert  and  his  menage, 
not  to  say  his  menus,  have  become  a  prominent  social 
topic.  He  is  a  new  man,  from  a  new  district.  Ev- 
erybody wanted  to  know  what  he  was  like.  He  was 
said  to  be  a  Colorado  ranchero ;  and  people  expected, 
perhaps,  that  he  would  be  "  bearded  like  a  pard,"  with 
a  big  felt  hat  and  cavalry  boots,  and  hang  around  the 
bar  and  corridors  at  Willard's.  When  they  found  their 
man  in  the  quiet,  clean-cut,  scholarly  personage  who 
had  taken  Judge 's  house,  on  I  Street,  for  the  sea- 
son (it  is  one  of  the  most  ample  and  attractive  in 
Washington),  they  were  more  curious  than  ever;  they 
said  he  did  not  represent  his  constituency  in  the  very 
least. 

Since  his  first  speech  on  the  currency,  which  surprised 
and  delighted  Secretary  Sherman,  —  and  Mr.  Dysart 
no  less,  —  he  has  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  leaders 
of  opinion  in  financial  matters ;  and  has  been  obliged 
to  consent  to  go  to  Brussels  next  June,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  "  bi-metallism  "  (whatever  that  may  be)  in 
the  "  Monetary  Conference." 

This  conclusion  has  precipitated  another.  The  baron 
and  Julia  are  to  be  married  in  May,  and  to  go  over  at 
the  same  time.  Baroness  Julia  de  Waldeyer,  of  Hohen- 
tauben, — just  think  of  it!  They  will  go  there,  and 
our  dear  old  baroness  will  entertain  them.  It  is  a 
shame  to  call  her  "  old."  There  is  a  freshness  about 
her  which  "  dulls  not,  nor  is  worn." 

They  are  to  return  at  different  times,  but  will  all  be 
here  next  winter. 


386  MANUELA   PARADES. 

Helen's  receptions,  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays,  are 
always  fully  attended.  The  house  has  parlors  en  suite, 
you  know.  Robert  and  Helen  receive  in  the  front  room, 
and  the  baroness  and  Julia  hold  court  in  the  other.  The 
baroness  is  a  great  attraction.  All  the  diplomatic  corps 
adore  her,  and  all  the  older  set  of  Washington  people. 
They  say  they  have  seen  no  such  grande  dame  since 
Mrs.  Madison's  day.  And  at  home  she  is  so  lovely,  — 
perfectly  devoted  and  invaluable  to  Helen,  but  keep- 
ing, we  fancy,  just  a  little  out  of  Robert's  way,  for  fear 
he  might  think  her  disposed  to  draw  Helen  away  from 
him. 

The  baron  lives  at  the  Legation,  but  is  apt  to  dine 
with  us,  and  play  chess  with  Julia  in  the  evening.  By 
the  late  hour  at  which  she  comes  up-stairs,  I  should 
judge  that  they  must  have  very  complicated  games. 
The  community  have  speculated  on  the  relations  of  the 
baroness  to  the  family ;  but  the  current  opinion  seems 
to  be  formed  on  the  statements  made  in  Paris,  —  that 
she  and  the  baron  are  old  friends  of  Robert's.  No 
pains  are  taken  to  enlarge  their  knowledge  in  this 
direction. 

Robert  says  you  must  come  back  with  him,  —  that  is 
the  best  of  all.  He  says  you  might  easily  have  a  place 
in  the  Capitol,  as  secretary  of  some  committee ;  but 
neither  you,  nor  any  of  us  for  you,  would  be  content 
with  an  inferior  position  like  that,  even  for  a  time.  I 
quite  agree  with  you  that  you  should  open  your  own 
office  at  Denver.  Robert  says  business  will  flow  to  you 
at  once. 


AXD   THE   CHORUS. 


387 


My  dear  boy,  how  much  life  and  love  has  grown  up 
around  and  among  us  all  since  that  blessed  day  when 
\ve  sat  on  the  grassy  slope  of  Rigi  and  looked  at  the 
beautiful  blue  water  !  You,  of  course,  are  the  first  figure 
to  me.  I  thank  Heaven  daily  for  your  love,  and  I  try 
to  become  what  I  think  you  would  wish  me  to  be. 

"No  steep  is  hard  for  Love's  white  feet  to  climb." 


God  be  with  you,  dearest ! 

Affectionately, 


YOUR  ALICE. 


THREE    NEW    NOVELS 

BY   THREE  OF   THE   MOST   POPULAR    "  NO    NAME  "   AUTHORS. 


I. 

THE   HEAD  OF  MEDUSA.     By  GEORGE  FLEMING,  author 
of  "  Kismet  "  and  "  Mirage." 

II. 

BY    THE    TIBER.      By   the    author   of    "  Signor   Monaldini's 
Niece." 

III. 

BLESSED    SAINT    CERTAINTY.      By  the  author  of  "His 
Majesty,  Myself." 


ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 
Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


THE    "NO   NAME"    (SECOND)     SERIES. 


HIS  MAJESTY,  MYSELF. 

"The  last  '  No  Name*  novel  cannot  long  remain  anonymous.  '  His  Majesty, 
Myself '  is  so  remarkable  a  piece  of  work  that  its  author  must  be  known.  The  title- 
page  is  concise  and  brilliant,  the  opening  chapters  are  concise  and  brilliant ; 
powerfully  drawn  characters  come  and  go  in  the  story ;  brilliancy  gives  place  to 
pathos,  pathos  deepens  into  tragedy,  tragedy  is  relieved  by  wit,  wit  softened  by 
tenderness.  Scenes  of  the  homeliest  simplicity  alternate  with  those  of  the  most 
intense  emotion  and  terrible  anguish.  Characters  are  dissected,  are  analyzed  with 
consummate  skill;  events  told  with  masterly  dramatic  power  ;  shams  are  riddled 
with  arrows  of  scorn;  the  hidden  things  in  human  hearts  are  set  in  the  light,  and 
readers  are  forced  to  judge  themselves  in  this  powerful  revelation  of  human 
nature."  — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  The  last  novel  of  the  '  No  Name  Series  '  has  made  a  decided  sensation.  It 
gives  the  most  graphic  and  scathing  description  of  the  result  of  sensational 
preaching  —  of  the  preach  ing  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  with  Christ  left  out  It  is  a 
thoroughly  manly  and  healthy  book  to  read.  Joseph  Cook,  at  a  late  Boston  Con- 
ference, spoke  of  it  thus :  '  I  have  just  read  "  His  Majesty,  Myself."  It  is  a  power- 
ful and  manly  book  from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  full  of  bright,  keen  Orthodoxy.' 
This  is  high  praise,  but  none  too  high*  The  author,  whoever  he  be,  is  an  Ortho- 
dox evangelical  Christian,  who  has  iron  in  his  blood  and  brain,  and  who  writes 
with  a  gold  pen,  diamond-tipt.  Old  Princeton ians  will  find  among  its  characters 
some  acquaintances  and  friends,  professors  and  students."  —  The  Presbyterian. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  strongest  novels  the  present  year  has  produced.  The 
course  of  a  sensational  clergyman  who  gives  his  flock  truth  garnered  frrm  the 
newspapers  instead  of  from  the  Bible,  and  proclaims  himself  far  more  than  his 
Lord,  is  thinkingly  depicted.  The  whole  book  is  one  of  the  keenest  descriptions 
of  the  terrible  nature  of  selfishness  we  have  ever  read,  and  if  it  is  not  marked  ii.- 
stantly  as  one  of  the  most  powerful  of  the  most  remarkable  series  to  which  it 
belongs,  we  shall  be  greatly  surprised."  —  Christian  Intelligencer. 

"  No  one  will  take  exception  to  the  statement  that  '  His  Majesty,  Myself,'  the 
latest  '  No  Name '  novel,  is  a  powerful  book  It  is  a  work  which  is  as  marked  in 
vigor  as  it  is  in  originality.  No  one  but  a  man  of  genius  could  have  written  it. 
No  person  can  read  it  without  receiving  a  marked  impression.  It  is  one  of  those 
stones  which  must  remain  in  the  memory,  and  this  long  after  tales  which  have 
more  of  unity  and  are  much  more."  — Saturday  Evening  Gazette- 

"  As  an  exhibit  of  sound  religious  thinking  and  pure  religious  feeling,  as  far  re- 
moved from  'loose  notions'  and  weak  sentiment  on  the  one  side  as  from  dead 
formalism  and  cold  cant  on  the  other,  it  has  few  equals.  He  has  written  a  Fifth 
Gospel,  and  we  reckon  him  a  true  evangelist,"  says  a  retired  clergyman. 

In  one  volume,  IGmo.    Green  cloth.    Price  81.0O. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers.     When  not 
to  be  found,  send  directly  to  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Messrs,    Roberts   Brothers    Publications. 


MRS.  BEAUCHAMP  BROWN. 


'"  MRS.  BHAUCHAMP  BROWN,'  the  last  volume  of  the  '  No  Name  '  series,  is  a 
novel  worthy  of  something  more  than  a  casual  perusal.  To  the  veteran  novel 
reader,  surfeited  with  the  wearisome  sameness  of  the  average  romance  of  our 
time,  this  book  is  a  refreshing  surprise.  It  does  not  depend  for  its  interest  on  the 
hackneyed  sensations  which  seem  to  be  the  chief  stock-in-trade  of  so  many  con- 
temporaneous writers.  The  plot  is  decidedly  original,  and  the  story  develops 
naturally,  and  is  worked  out  with  conscientious  fidelity  to  the  predetermined  plan 
to  its  climax  and  conclusion,  but  its  chiefest  charm  lies  rather  in  the  skilful 
character  drawing  and  clever,  even  epigrammatic,  dialogue,  which  characterize  it. 
That  it  is  written  by  a  woman  is  apparent,  and  that  the  writer  is  thoroughly  a 
woman  of  the  world,  familiar  vith  the  best  society,  both  here  and  abroad,  is 
equally  evident. 

The  story  is  exquisitely  told,  and  there  are  bits  of  dialogue  and  description 
which  would  do  no  discredit  to  any  of  the  masters  of  fiction.  Some  of  the  char- 
acters —  notably  of  Mrs.  Beauchamp  Brown,  Margaret,  Camilla,  Rochfort,  and 
Paul  —  are  drawn  with  a  vigor  and  clearness  which  give  them  a  strikingly  distinctive 
individuality  ;  they  stand  out,  indeed,  in  tli£  story  like  the  central  figures  in  a 
picture,  full  of  rare  and  beautiful  effects."  —  Frank  Leslie's  Lady's  Journal. 

"  The  new  '  No  Name '  story  certainly  has  all  the  requirements  of  a  novel,  — 
a  faultlessly  beautiful  heroine,  two  gay  young  girls  not  yet  twenty,  and  an  aunt  at 
the  top  of  society.  .  .  .  Every  one  who  has  travelled  to  Mount  Desert  will  rec- 
ognize the  bright,  pleasing  pictures  of  scenery,  as  well  as  of  life  in  boat  and 
wagon.  Mrs  Beauchamp  Brown  is  well  drawn,"  says  the  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  Everybody  will  be  glad  to  know  that  Roberts  Bros.,  Boston,  have  added 
their  '  No  Name  '  series  a  new  novel,  'Mrs.  Beauchamp  Brown.'  In  themselves, 
the  '  No  Name'  stories  are  always  very  well  worth  reading,  and  they  have  the  added 
charm  that  always  attends  a  mystery.  There  is  much  satisfaction  to  be  found  in 
the  attempt  to  discover  the  author's  carefully  concealed  identity;  to  endeavor  by  a 
close  consideration  of  style,  plot,  and  motive  to  link  the  new  book  with  some  other 
book  already  in  existence,  the  authorship  of  which  is  not  hidden.  In  most  cases 
this  attempt  is  a  failure;  but  as  the  people  who  guess  are  very  well  satisfied  with 
their  guessing,  the  fact  that  they  guess  wrongly  is  not  of  much  consequence.  The 
new  story  will  set  tongues  a-wagging  even  more  briskly  than  usual,  for  it  deals 
with  serious  matters  which  just  now  engross  a  good  deal  of  attention  and  which 
seriously  affect  the  happiness  of  many  lives.  .  .  .  Apart  from  all  other  considera- 
tions, it  is  an  interesting  story,  told  in  a  clear,  fresh  style,  seasoned  with  a  certain 
amount  of  wit  and  especially  strong  in  its  sketching  of  character.  The  author  has 
not  shrunk  from  placing  figures  upon  her  stage  —  indeed,  her  stage  is  almost 
unduly  crowded,  and  she  has  given  to  each  of  her  figures  a  well-defined  individ- 
uality. From  the  ponderous  Mrs.  Beauchamp  Brown  herself  —  who  is  merely  the 
titular  divinity  of  the  book  and  has  very  little  to  do  with  the  action  —  down  to 
Jubal  Keene,  the  native-born  Yankee  of  Plum  Island,  each  of  the  characters  has 
a  real  personality.  They  severally  look  and  act  their  assigned  parts  as  well  as  speak 
them." — Philadelphia  Times. 

"  A  work  which  will  command  a  wide  reading,  because  it  compels  Boston 
society  to  come  forth  from  its  shell  and  take  a  look  at  itself,"  says  the  Boston  Post. 

In  one  volume.     i6mo.     Green  cloth.     Price  $1.00. 

Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers.  When 
not  to  befoitnd,  send  directly  to 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

Boston. 


Messrs.    Roberts   Brothers    Publications. 

THE  NO  NAME  (SECOND)  SERIES. 

SlGNOR  MONALDINI'S  NIECE. 

Extracts  from  some  Opinions  by  -well-known  Authors. 

"We  have  read  'Signer  Monaldini's  Niece'  with  intensest 
interest  and  delight.  The  style  is  finished  and  elegant,  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  book  is  enchanting.  We  seem  to  have  lived  in 
Italy  while  we  were  reading  it.  The  author  has  delineated  with  a 
band  as  steady  as  it  is  powerful  and  skilful  some  phases  of  human 
life  and  experience  that  authors  rarely  dare  attempt,  and  with 
marvellous  success.  We  think  this  volume  by  far  the  finest  of 
the  No  Name  Series." 

"  It  is  a  delicious  story.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  to  Italy  and 
knew  all  the  people.  .  .  .  Miss  Conroy  is  a  strong  character,  and 
her  tragedy  is  a  fine  background  for  the  brightness  of  the  other 
and  higher  natures.  It  is  all  so  dramatic  and  full  of  color  it  goes 
on  like  a  lovely  play  and  leaves  one  out  of  breath  when  the  cur- 
tain falls." 

"I  have  re-read  it  with  great  interest,  and  think  as  highly  of  it 
as  ever.  .  .  .  The  characterization  in  it  is  capital,  and  the  talk 
wonderfully  well  done  from  first  to  last." 

"  The  new  No  Name  is  enchanting.  It  transcends  the  ordinary 
novel  just  as  much  as  a  true  poem  by  a  true  poet  transcends  the 
thousand  and  one  imitations.  ...  It  is  the  episode,  however,  of 
Miss  Conroy  and  Mrs.  Brandon  that  is  really  of  most  importance 
in  this  book.  ...  I  hope  every  woman  who  reads  this  will  be 
tempted  to  read  the  book,  and  that  she  will  in  her  turn  bring  it  to 
the  reading  of  other  women,  especially  if  she  can  find  any  Mrs. 
Brandon  in  her  circle." 

In  one  volume,  i6mo,  bound  in  green  cloth,  black  and  gilt  let- 
tered. Price  Ji.oo. 

Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  Booksellers.  When 
not  to  be  found,  send  directly  to 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  BOSTON. 


NO    NAME   (SECOND)   SERIES. 


THE  TSAR'S  WINDOW. 


"  The  basis  of  all  novels  is,  more  or  less,  love.  Of  course  that  is  the  principal 
subject  of  this  story,  and  an  extremely  pretty  love  tale  it  is,  with  an  excellent  plot 
and  some  interesting  characters  well  drawn.  Incidental  to  the  story  are  introduced 
some  excellent  descriptions,  not  only  of  Russia's  two  great  cities,  St.  Petersburg 
and  Moscow,  as  they  appear  to  any  observer,  but  of  Russian  society  and  its  pecul- 
jar  features.  It  is  really  a  book  of  valuable  instruction  in  this  respect,  and  the 
instruction  is  made  highly  interesting."  —  Post. 

"  The  pretty  story  of  '  The  Tsar's  Window '  is  told  by  some  happy  and  fortunate 
person  who  has  travelled  in  Russia  under  advantageous  circumstances,  and  who 
saw  the  rosy  side  of  imperialism  ;  not  without  reflecting  upon  the  other  side,  how- 
ever, for  with  the  true  American  spirit  the  author  comments  upon  such  things  as 
feasts  at  the  palace,  of  which  the  splendor  is  almost  indescribable,  and  of  the 
plague  beyond  the  Volga,  where  whole  villages  had  to  be  burned  to  the  ground, 
together  with  the  clothina;  of  the  peasants.  The  descriptions  of  St.  Petersburg 
sights  and  people  are  bright  and  pleasing,  and  there  is  much  that  can  be  gleaned  of 
the  domestic  life  of  the  nobility  by  reading  this  little  volume."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"The  Tsar's  Window  "  is  the  city  of  St.  Petersburg,  whence  Peter  the  Great 
looked  out  into  Europe  over  the  icy  waters  of  the  Baltic.  Into  the  frozen  city 
this  little  volume  brings  a  group  of  Americans,  whose  visit  to  the  Russian  count, 
their  relative,  is  diversified  by  much  coquetry,  love-making,  sight-seeing,  and  going 
to  Court.  If  there  be  something  of  the  guide-book  about  the  story,  it  is  assuredly 
glorified  guide-book.  The  descriptions  are  neat,  vivid,  sharply  drawn  as  a  line 
engraving.  The  charm  of  the  book  is  in  its  descriptions  of  the  city  (  St.  Peters- 
burg )  and  of  court  ceremonial,"  says  the  New  York  Tribune. 

"  They  are  charmingly  disinterested  men,  suffering  just  enough  to  be  interest- 
ing, and  to  give  the  needed  shadows  to  the  bright  and  prosperous  life  in  which 
they  lived  so  easily  and  pleasantly.  The  love  affairs  all  end  satisfactorily ;  the 
visit  in  St.  Petersburg  was  rich  in  incident,  novelty,  color,  and  amusement ;  the 
reader  looks  in  at  the  Tsar's  window  with  the  author,  and  sees  just  what  she 
wishes  him  to  see  ;  and  her  story  of  Russian  life  and  Russian  love  will  probably 
be  very  popular."  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

"The  romance  is  more  the  framework  for  the  descriptive  portions  than  the 
theme  of  absorbing  interest,  but  it  helps  to  make  the  picture  of  the  Russian  cap- 
ital more  enjoyable,  and  impresses  the  events  in  social  and  domestic  circles 
pleasantly  on  the  memory.  '  The  Tsar's  Window  '  is  agreeable  without  being 
exciting,  and  will  be  found  an  entertaining  companion  for  leisure  hours,  the  circle 
it  introduces  being  one  of  marked  refinement  and  social  culture."  —  Providence 
Journal. 

"  It  is  a  story  of  to-day;  that  is,  of  travel,  foreign  residence,  exciting  adven- 
ture, personal  experiences  in  Russia,  an  imperial  wedding  at  the  court  of  the  late 
czar,  and,  as  a  suitable  wind-up,  a  love  match  at  the  end.  Evidently  life  in  Rus- 
sia, as  presented  here,  has  been  written  by  one  who  draws  upon  his  experience 
and  not  upon  his  imagination  or  the  guide-books."  —  Exchange. 


In  one  volume,  i6mo,  green  cloth.     Price,  $1.00. 

Our  publications  are  to  be  found  in  all  bookstores,  or  will 
be  mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS, 

Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts 


A    000  131  290    9 


NO    NAME    (SECOND)    SERIES. 


DON  JOHN. 


"  Of  the  many  pleasant  volumes  which  this  successful  series  has  included,  none 
is  more  attractive  than  Don  John.  The  plot  is  ingenious,  something  too  much  so  ; 
for  the  hurry  of  desire  to  disentangle  its  thread  leads  the  reader  to  miss  the  charm 
of  the  genuine  modern  idyl  to  which  this  harassing  mystery  seems  alien.  .  .  .  Asa 
last  word  to  the  reader  —  read  Don  John  as  rapidly  as  you  will  for  sake  of  finding 
out  the  book's  secret ;  but  be  sure  to  read  it  again,  for  its  sweetness  must  be  drawn 
out  slowly  as  a  bee  takes  honey  from  the  little  slim  goblets  of  the  pink  clover."  — 
Portland  Press. 

"Don  John  has  the  first  and  chiefest  requisite  of  a  novel,  —  it  is  extremely 
interesting  from  first  to  last.  Nobody  could  mistake  the  plot,  or  no  plot  —  the 
remarkable  children  .  .  .  clever  beyond  the  actualities  of  real  life,  unique  as  never 
were  any  American  nursery  plants,  whatever  English  ones  may  be,  lustrous  with 
the  author's  peculiar  humor,  abounding  in  scintillations  of  aphoristic  wit,  with  that 
sad  and  only  half-satisfying  ending  which  Miss  Ingelow  is  in  the  habit  of  giving 
to  her  stories.  It  is  largely  a  vivid  picture  of  boy-aud-girl  life,  and  as  such  is 
specially  delightful."  —  Home  yonrnnl. 

"  The  delineation  of  character  and  the  portrayal  of  the  delightful  relations  ex- 
isting between  parents  and  children  in  the  cultured  circles  of  English  middle-class 
society,  is  most  skilfully  done,  and  it  is  safe  to  say  that,  though  quite  different 
from  the  preceding  novels  of  the  '  No  Name '  series,  none  exceed  it  in  point  of 
interest  and  charm  of  style."  —  A'.  Y.  Graphic. 

"Don  John,  the  latest  of  Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  '  No  Name"  novels,  is  a 
clever,  entertaining,  and  in  some  repects  an  o:igiual  book.  .  .  .  The  story  is 
always  interesting ;  sometimes  it  is  fascinatingly  so.  ...  It  is  a  novel  in  all  re- 
spects above  the  average.  Not  only  will  it  fix  and  hold  the  reader  in  virtue  of  the 
ingenuity  of  its  plot  and  the  spirit  with  which  it  is  told,  but  there  is  very  good 
character  work  in  it.  ...  The  scene  is  England,  and  the  story  presents  a  very 
charming  study  of  English  home  life.  The  style  in  which  the  story  is  written  is 
very  pleasing.  While  there  are  fine,  delicate  touches  of  pathos,  the  general  tone 
is  bright  and  cheery,  and  at  times  the  text  becomes  brilliant,  especially  in  the 
sayings  of  Charlotte.  Above  and  beyond  its  power  to  amuse,  the  novel  teaches  a 
lesson,  well  to  learn.  It  is  a  valuable  addition  to  the  popular  series." — Boston 
Post. 

"  The  persons  are  well  conceived  and  sustained,  and  in  their  various  ways  are 
highly  interesting.  The  plot  is  odd  and  effective.  The  book  has  a  noble  moral 
tone,  and  there  is  much  capital  fun  in  it."  —  Congregationalist. 

In  one  volume,  16mo.     Green  cloth.     Price,  si. 00. 


Our  publications  are  to  be  had  of  all  booksellers, 
be  found,  send  directly  to  the  publishers, 


When  not  to 


ROBERTS  BROTHERS, 

BOSTON. 


